


Changing Pace

by leftfoottrapped (miikkaa_xx)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:06:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3216890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miikkaa_xx/pseuds/leftfoottrapped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fucktoy!AU. Accidentally gaining a reputation as the worst toy, Suho desperately tries to prove himself, but he’s pretty sure it would be a lot easier if Chen was just an ordinary master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing Pace

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings:** language, explicit sex including: d/s, rimming. unbeta'd.

-

Junmyeon's not a bad fucktoy; he does honestly try his best.

His mentors are at least always pleased with how dedicated he seemed to be about learning politeness and mannerisms and deciphering how the courts and politicians spoke, the said and unsaid things. The sex too – his mentors are always impressed with Junmyeon’s efforts.

Then he actually does get paid for his services – ends up in the bedroom of the Korean diplomat, Cho Kyuhyun. It’s going fine – he makes Kyuhyun laugh when they talk, because Junmyeon studied up on whom these people are and Kyuhyun gets a kick out of making fun of them all.

Then they topple into his bed and Junmyeon’s sort of appreciating the ceiling lights more than he’s appreciating Kyuhyun’s mouth on his dick. Kyuhyun pulls off, blinks at him. ‘You – you good?’

Junmyeon jerks upwards, a dozen of apologies on his mouth, but what he actually says, ‘I think you should let _me_ fuck you.’ Which is… the exact opposite of his job.

Kyuhyun stares at him for a long moment, probably wondering where the ‘pliant, submissive Junmyeon’ that he actually hired has gone. Junmyeon hurriedly backtracks, ‘I mean – as in, please, Kyuhyun-hyung, let me suck you off, I want to. And then, I, ah, really want to ride you?’

They don’t have sex. Junmyeon dresses back up and obeys when Kyuhyun asks him to sit up against the headboard. Then Kyuhyun sits beside him and gives him the remote control to the TV hanging on the wall in front of the bed. ‘Sorry. I didn’t feel like getting dominated tonight,’ he says. ‘But we can definitely marathon bad TV and keep making fun of my boss.’

Junmyeon doesn’t fuck that up, at least.

-

That’s the start of his less-than-stellar bed reputation.

Next is Changmin, who raises his eyebrows a lot when Junmyeon keeps pulling off his cock to make demands – no, ah, _suggestions_ as to what Changmin should do. There was also Yifan sometime later on, with hands that can span Junmyeon’s entire waist. Instead of fucking Junmyeon into the mattress, Junmyeon accidentally rides him so hard that he passes out. That one wasn’t bad – Junmyeon got to read from Yifan’s bookshelf while waiting for Yifan to wake up. The latest accident was some political attaché to the Minister of Arts, named Chanyeol. Chanyeol’s loud and enthusiastic and seems determined to make Junmyeon scream his name. Junmyeon fucks himself open on Chanyeol’s cock so well that Chanyeol starts crying instead.

‘Sorry,’ says Junmyeon, petting Chanyeol’s trembling side as Chanyeol lies curled up next to him. ‘I – ah – didn’t mean to, to do all that.’ Honestly, Junmyeon didn’t think that running his mouth with compliments about what a _good boy_ Chanyeol was would make Chanyeol start shaking and begging for more. He was always taught to compliment the client, but maybe Junmyeon started talking at the wrong time.

‘No, don’t worry, it was good,’ sniffles Chanyeol and burrows closer against Junmyeon. ‘Felt really good.’

‘Oh. Good. I’m glad.’

‘Can I – can I recommend someone to you?’

Junmyeon blinks. ‘Sure.’ Wouldn’t be his first time – after all, Changmin was sent by Kyuhyun. He vaguely wonders if they talk about him.

Chanyeol makes another pleased noise and cuddles Junmyeon to sleep.

-

Baekhyun is the one who lets him know. ‘People are saying you’re the worst fucktoy.’

‘What?’ Junmyeon turns away from the mirror, seeing Baekhyun leaning his hip against the doorway to his room. ‘I’ve always gotten paid.’

‘You’re a good _lay_ , but you’re a bad _toy_ ,’ emphasizes Baekhyun.

‘Oh.’ That sort of hurts his pride – Junmyeon trained a long damn time to get all of this right, and then when he finally gets clients, he messes it all up.

‘You’re never going to get a master at this rate.’

‘Go away,’ says Junmyeon, turning back to his reflection. ‘You don’t have one either.’

‘I will soon,’ croons Baekhyun. ‘This is my fourth night with him; I have a feeling he’s going to keep me. Have you ever had repeats so far?’

He sighs. ‘No.’ Then: ‘don’t you have to go and get ready or something, Baekhyun?’

Finally, Baekhyun leaves, and Junmyeon tries to figure out where he went wrong.

-

Chanyeol pays him again, but under the title, ‘a gift for Chen’, which means Junmyeon is going to go with Chanyeol and then be passed off to his real client of the night.

He’s trying not to feel grumpy; it’s just that Baekhyun had moved out of the house last night to his new master’s place, finally claimed. Junmyeon’s getting restless – he needs to prove himself, needs to show that he’s _good_ at his job, that he can _be_ that pliant, soft thing his future master would want.

‘We’re going to a party,’ says Chanyeol excitedly in the car as they’re chauffeured to the hotel. ‘I had Chen-ah rent a room for the night, I hope that’s okay.’ He peers over at Junmyeon with a smile, and Junmyeon’s startled enough by the enthusiasm that he smiles back.

The ballroom is full, brimming with people wandering between the tables and buffet and dance floor. Junmyeon knows this is some political party in celebration of the current Prime Minister’s successor candidate winning a few districts already compared to the competition. He recognizes the faces from the high offices – Kyuhyun is there, speaking low to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and Chanyeol is already hurrying to find his boss, the Minister of Arts. There are some other Ministers, with their attachés and assistants and personal office gophers.

When Junmyeon does another sweep of the room, he picks out the fucktoys in the room too – dressed to the nines, jewels in their ears or around their wrists or fingers or necks. Looking as tempting as always. Baekhyun’s there too, hand placed delicately over the forearm of his master, looking pretty with all his eyeliner and artfully tousled hair like he just got fucked in the car that brought him here. Maybe he had. Junmyeon tries not to be jealous.

Chanyeol’s still busy talking, so Junmyeon decides to try the food laid out for everyone. These political parties always had good catering. By the time he’s nibbling on something-or-another that he can’t really name – it’s deep-fried, which is what matters, honestly – someone steps up beside him, saying his name. ‘You’re Junmyeon?’

Junmyeon jerks in surprise, but doesn’t choke. He chews, swallows, and smiles, turning to the other person. ‘Yes?’

He recognizes the person instantly – he’s the personal assistant to the Minister of Defense: Kim Jongdae. Jongdae smiles at him, ‘I’m Chen, and you’re my gift?’

‘Oh.’ Junmyeon takes a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to look soft and pretty and malleable. ‘Yes, nice to meet you.’

Usually Junmyeon was with tall guys; could play up the size difference to seem delicate and willing. Of course, Jongdae just has to be the same height, maybe just a breath taller. Still. He could do this. He wouldn’t fuck this one up.

Then Jongdae starts to laugh, completely throwing off Junmyeon. ‘Ah, you’re cute. My name is Jongdae, not Chen, but you can call me whichever you like.’

‘I see,’ replies Junmyeon, then reaches out and lays a hand over Jongdae’s upper arm, tipping his head forward to show off the line of his neck. ‘How may I be of service, Jongdae?’

It’s sort of frustrating that Jongdae just keeps looking highly amused, glancing over at Junmyeon’s hand, before flicking his eyes back up. ‘Did you want to keep eating?’

‘Ah.’ Junmyeon hasn’t had to deal with that offer before. The catering _is_ good and Jongdae doesn’t seem to mind. He called Junmyeon cute after all. ‘Join me?’

‘Sure.’

-

Junmyeon has a policy to stay sober. It’s what’s recommended. Sloppy sex is unacceptable, and having alcohol in the system risks more screw-ups. Considering Junmyeon’s entire history is a series of screw-ups, he keeps strictly to water and tries to casually ply Jongdae with drinks. Clients had more fun when tipsy.

It’s not really working. Jongdae takes one tiny sip once every ten minutes. It’s agonizing to watch. Junmyeon sees his success rate steadily drop.

The conversation is at least Junmyeon’s specialty – he listens to Jongdae essentially talk shit about everyone in the room, and finds himself nodding in agreement, amused more than anything.

‘For real,’ drawls Jongdae, leaning back in his chair as he looks out to the party-goers. ‘It’s amazing what people will do when you place threatening post-it notes all over their computer screen.’

Jongdae is more pretty than handsome – high cheekbones, thick lashes, a curl to his mouth. Junmyeon finds he wouldn’t mind sleeping with him in the least even if he is short. Then Jongdae looks back over at him, grinning – mischievous and a little mean – and Junmyeon finds himself snorting with laughter as whatever Jongdae’s said finally registers.

Chanyeol swoops in a little while later, draping himself over Jongdae’s shoulders from behind. ‘Chenchen-ah,’ he slurs. ‘How are you?’

Clicking his tongue, Jongdae tips his head back to look at Chanyeol. ‘Drunk _already_? Kyungsoo is going to kill you.’

‘Kyungsoo won’t even talk to me,’ whines Chanyeol. ‘He claimed a toy and brought him here and now he’s too busy for his friends, I guess.’

‘Maybe you should get one then.’

‘Maybe _you_ should get one then,’ shoots back Chanyeol, looking victorious at his wit. ‘I got you Junmyeonnie. He’s – sorry, Junmyeonnie – the worst toy ever, and you’re an asshole, so I thought you two’d get along. You’re having fun, right, Junmyeonnie? He’s not being mean to you, is he?’

Jongdae shakes Chanyeol off. ‘What kind of logic is that?’ He glances back at Junmyeon. ‘I’m going to get him a taxi, you mind?’

‘Not at all,’ says Junmyeon, smile tight at the corners. It’s one thing hearing it from Baekhyun’s mouth, but from a previous client. _Worst toy ever_. ‘May I go up to your room?’

‘Of course,’ he replies, digging into his pocket and pulling out a card key with the room number on it. ‘I’ll come when I’m done here.’ Then Jongdae is off, scolding Chanyeol for his lack of restraint, as they go to the coat-check to get his things.

-

The room is typical for a high-end hotel. It’s definitely for the politically-inclined – has a kitchen, living room, with the bedroom  and bath down the hall; clearly lots of space to entertain guests, or something else.

He leaves the keycard on the breakfast bar and moves through the apartment suite, looking out the window at the cityscape spread out in front of him. The window shows him his own reflection – dressed in a pristine, tailored suit, hair brushed and soft, a nice watch, some rings on his fingers. Looking down, he wiggles his toes in his socks, laughing a little. That was cute. He was cute.  He’d do this right.

The wait time is only ten minutes. There’s a knock on the door, and Junmyeon opens it with a smile, seeing Jongdae smiling back at him.

‘Did you want me to get you a drink?’ he asks, wandering into the kitchen. ‘Fridge is stocked.’

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ replies Jongdae. ‘Help yourself.’

Junmyeon comes out with a glass of water, seeing Jongdae standing in front of the window. When he turns around, hands stuffed in his pockets, he’s not smiling anymore. Bad sign, bad sign – Junmyeon flounders, feeling ridiculous with a glass in his hand. He hurriedly puts it down on the breakfast bar, before squaring his shoulders. Seduction.

Approaching Jongdae is a lot harder than he expected – not because of any obstacle. Instead, he watches Jongdae tip his head to the side, eyes unblinking, expression evaluating. Like he’s rating Junmyeon’s performance. Swallowing, Junmyeon steps close to Jongdae, curling a hand around his shoulder, leaning in, eyes on him, and feeling overwhelmed when Jongdae doesn’t break the gaze. Doesn’t bother looking at the line of Junmyeon’s neck, nor the curve of his mouth.

‘Jongdae,’ manages Junmyeon, doesn’t exactly know if he should go with, ‘may I kiss you’ or ‘shall we take this elsewhere’. There’s an entire script to this, but a script is between two people, and Jongdae’s not saying his lines, going through the motions.

‘Can we talk first?’ says Jongdae suddenly. He steps away, dislodging Junmyeon’s hand entirely. ‘Bring your drink over, let’s sit.’

So they do. Junmyeon holds onto his glass as he sits near the middle of the couch. Jongdae sprawls lazily beside him, slowly undoing his cufflinks and placing them with a muffled click onto the glass coffee table in front of them.

‘Why’d Chanyeol call you the worst toy ever?’ he asks, not looking at Junmyeon.

‘If I tell you, you won’t want to sleep with me,’ points out Junmyeon.

‘That’s okay.’ Jongdae glances at him. ‘I like hearing you talk. I’ll make you stay here all night and have a conversation for hours. Like a middle school sleepover.’

The idea of someone so high up in government like Jongdae as a middle schooler makes Junmyeon snort. ‘First one who falls asleep has to buy breakfast in the morning then.’

 ‘Great.’ Jongdae is smiling at him again, and his expression is warm. It’s comforting.

‘Fucktoys are supposed to be, well, pliant. Submissive.’ Junmyeon hums in thought. ‘I talk a lot and I say the wrong things at the wrong times, and then my clients think I’m trying to order them around and dominate them instead.’

‘Are you?’

Junmyeon blinks. ‘I - not on purpose.’

That makes Jongdae huff with laughter. ‘Maybe you just haven't met a proper dom, or maybe you just are a dom at heart.’

‘But – that’s not what I was trained to do.’

Jongdae shrugs. ‘Being submissive all the time sounds exhausting. Sometimes you want to switch it up.’

‘Yes, but, my _job_ , as a _toy_ ,’ says Junmyeon, feeling a little frustrated. ‘I don’t want to be bad at my job. I want to get a master.’

‘Someone to keep you?’

‘Yes.’ It’d be nice to have one steady person, someone to get to know in and out of bed, for as long as the relationship worked out.

‘Alright. I’ll be your master.’

Startled, Junmyeon looks at him. ‘Just like that? You don’t know what I’m like as a toy.’

Jongdae’s not paying attention to him; busy undoing his tie next, smoothing out the silk precise and careful. ‘I think it’d be fun, don’t you? I’m the least nice person in the room below, and you’re the least submissive toy in your job.’

He’s not sure he’s following. ‘Do you – do you want me to dominate you then?’ Jongdae’s the same size as he is; Junmyeon could learn how to press him down into the bed and give him what he needs.

Those thoughts are drowned out by a sharp bout of laughter. ‘If _you_ would like to do that, we can,’ says Jongdae.

‘I want to know what _you_ want.’

‘I want to get to know you,’ says Jongdae. He looks much more relaxed now – with an undone collar and loose sleeves around his wrists. ‘I’m not asking you to kiss and tell, but say if you did, that’s what I would want to hear.’

‘Oh.’ Maybe that’s what Jongdae got off on – some sort of indirect voyeurism. Dirty talk. Junmyeon places his glass on the table, sitting back on the couch, head tipped back to show off his neck. He really does have a nice neck; he hopes Jongdae is noticing.

‘The first one – he was tall, good-looking. He pressed me against the bed, got me hard when he licked his way down my chest. His hand felt so good against my cock, Jongdae-ah, but his mouth was even better.’

When he looks over, Jongdae is looking less aroused and more amused, pressing his fist to his mouth like he’s trying to hide his grin. Junmyeon resists making a noise of frustration. ‘Is this not what you want?’

‘I like the added details,’ admits Jongdae. ‘I was looking more for how you took over from him.’

Junmyeon completely gives up on theatricality. ‘He was sucking me off, and I was thinking about how I was better, so I told him I wanted to fuck him instead. He said no and we watched cooking shows until five in the morning.’

‘That sounds nice,’ says Jongdae. ‘I have no idea how to cook, so I’ll have to keep that in mind.’

‘You’re making fun of me,’ says Junmyeon flatly.

‘A little bit.’

By this time, if this was any ordinary client, Junmyeon should’ve had Jongdae’s cock in his mouth, maybe even drinking down one orgasm already. Instead, he’s on a couch, hands in his lap, with Jongdae watching him with a teasing grin, and everything is assuredly platonic.

Well. If this is what Jongdae – his now self-proclaimed master – wanted. Junmyeon goes through his nights with Changmin, Yifan, and Chanyeol in record speed, giving Jongdae a basic summary of the experiences, careful to only keep to pronouns.

‘The last one,’ says Jongdae after Junmyeon’s done. ‘That’s Chanyeollie, isn’t it?’ Maybe his face gives it away, because Jongdae is laughing. ‘He thinks he can fuck, but really he just wants to be pet.’

‘Have you slept with him?’ blurts Junmyeon.

‘No.’ Jongdae cocks his head. ‘I just know.’

There’s something underlying those words, and while Junmyeon can’t tell what it is, it has his stomach twisting – wariness and curiosity swimming in his veins. ‘How?’

‘You really do talk a lot,’ says Jongdae, not unkind. He shifts so he’s sitting sideways to face Junmyeon, with his shoulder leaning against the back of the couch. ‘I have another request.’

‘Okay.’

Suddenly, Jongdae’s expression crumples into confusion. ‘Can you tell me what exactly am I supposed to do as your master?’

-

At four in the morning, Jongdae falls asleep first, slipping from a sitting position to being half-curled on the couch cushions. Junmyeon’s pretty sure he doesn’t mean to, but then again listening to Junmyeon explain a master-fucktoy relationship to him from beginning to end must’ve been a little boring.

Junmyeon fidgets on the other side of the couch, unsure of what to do, before he takes a deep breath. He would give this one last shot. Crawling forward, he cages in Jongdae, forearms on either side of his sleeping face. Then he leans down, nudging at Jongdae’s cheek with his nose. ‘Jongdae-ah.’

It takes a few belated seconds before Jongdae’s humming, brows scrunched, and finally blinking awake. Maybe seeing Junmyeon hovering right over his face wasn’t the best sight Junmyeon could’ve subjected him to, but Jongdae only takes it with a surprised jerk back.  Once the situation registers, he’s smiling sleepily, ‘you can take the bed.’

‘You can,’ Junmyeon swallows, unable to look away from the pretty curl at the corners of Jongdae’s lips. ‘You can join me.’

Jongdae waves him off. ‘Comfortable couch. Go sleep. Breakfast’s on me.’

If master says so, Junmyeon supposes he should obey. He watches as Jongdae turns over onto his other side, curling up, and falling back asleep, before he’s padding down to the large bed.

-

He calls up Baekhyun by the next afternoon. ‘I’m moving in with my new master, can you help me pack this all up?’

Baekhyun shows up an hour later with a moving team in tow. ‘Courtesy of my new and rich master Kyungsoo,’ he says sweetly. ‘I love these perks.’

‘Right,’ says Junmyeon as he watches his livelihood assembled neatly into boxes and shoved in a truck.

He had told Jongdae over breakfast earlier, ‘usually, the fucktoy moves in with the master to be used as the master pleases. As a matter of convenience. Sometimes, the master lets the fucktoy live by themselves, and they arrange dates to meet up. It’s up to the master, honestly.’

Jongdae nods. ‘Okay. I’ll give you my address, move in any time.’

And now he’s standing in Jongdae’s living room with a bunch of boxes and a key the security guard in the apartment complex lobby gave him. He takes a picture of his boxes with his phone and sends it as proof to Jongdae, who is off god-knows-where. Personal assistant perks, muses Junmyeon. Had to always be on call.

-

‘I took the guest bedroom,’ says Junmyeon when Jongdae comes home in the evening with takeout in a plastic bag.

‘Cool,’ says Jongdae. ‘You hungry?’

Dinner isn’t really any different than breakfast, except now they’re in Jongdae’s upscale apartment graciously provided by taxpayer money. Junmyeon didn’t know being a civil servant had so many advantages; maybe he was in the wrong career.

‘So, did – did you have a good day?’ asks Junmyeon eventually after their previous conversation dies off, not out of any particular awkwardness, but his mentors always said that sex was a good stress-relief and he just really, _really_ wants to prove that he’s good at his job.

Jongdae purses his mouth in thought. ‘I think so. You never know about politics – I think I convinced the guy pretty well, but we’ll see what policies he comes up with later.’

Well. There goes the stress-relief idea.

Junmyeon stares at his glass of water and wonders if he’s already fucked up.

-

Except life is peaceful in the Jongdae-and-Junmyeon household. To cover expenses, Jongdae gives him a credit card, tells him the limit on it, and flies out the door to his job. In return, Junmyeon watches cooking shows a lot and tries to make eggs.

‘This…’ trails off Jongdae when he comes home and Junmyeon offers him dinner. ‘Alright. This is what we’re going to do.’

Junmyeon looks down at his plate too. ‘Throw it out?’

‘What – no,’ says Jongdae, voice incredulous. ‘You made it, why would we throw it out?’

‘So we don’t die from food poisoning.’

‘No, look, we’re going to take a bite at the same time. I’ll count down.’

‘So we both die from food poisoning at the same time?’ Junmyeon picks up a piece of his egg with his chopsticks. ‘That’s romantic, I guess.’

They don’t die, but they definitely throw the eggs out. Junmyeon is honestly really embarrassed, but Jongdae waves it off, and they have late-night takeout on the couch watching more cooking shows.

-

Junmyeon doesn't expect himself to settle in as Jongdae's surprise new roommate who doesn't pay rent because his payment involves letting Junmyeon sleep with him and Jongdae seems less than interested.

Yet Jongdae doesn't seem to mind – goes through life as usual like he didn't just lay claim to a toy without even fucking them. It wasn't against policy or anything, but Junmyeon has no idea why a person would get a toy if not for sex. Maybe it had something to do with Junmyeon’s reputation, but Junmyeon’s hoping it might be that Jongdae was just charmed by his stumbling attempts at seduction from the first night.

Either way, though Junmyeon doesn't really get why he's here in the first place, they turn out to be very pleasant roommates.

In fact so pleasant that Junmyeon finds himself some weeks later sitting on the couch beside Jongdae folding laundry when Jongdae suddenly speaks up. ‘Ah, shit, I can’t believe I didn’t ask – when’s your birthday?’

‘May 22nd.’ Junmyeon pauses and tacks on year of birth too.

Jongdae drops the shirt he’s holding in surprise. ‘You’re _older_ than me?’

Junmyeon stares back. ‘You’re younger?’

‘Junmyeon-hyung,’ says Jongdae slowly, and then grins. ‘That sounds nice.’

He can’t help but agree. Then, ‘as my dongsaeng, please fold the rest of these clothes as I take a nap.’

A pair of shorts come flying at his face, and Junmyeon falls over, listening to Jongdae cackle at him, and he can’t help but laugh too.

-

Of course, there's a niggling voice in his head that tells him he's taking advantage of this arrangement. Even when Junmyeon tries to ignore it, the words get louder and louder as the days pass.

He's a fucktoy; this is his job. He should be on his knees at least once a week, showing Jongdae exactly what he knows. Get him stuttering and flushed and weak-kneed. Instead, he sleeps in another bed and manages to touch Jongdae only when they're trying to dodge each other in the kitchen at too-early in the morning.

There's also the fact that, if Junmyeon is being completely honest with himself, he might want to suck cock less because of his training and more because Jongdae is turning out to be a very, very attractive person.

There's something like a lazy conceit about him – the way he leans back in chairs and sprawls over the couch. It makes his head tilt up a little, just enough, to highlight how sharp his cheekbones are, the smug curve of his mouth, an expectant half-lidded gaze framed by thick lashes.

Junmyeon would find the arrogance irritating, but then it's soon followed up by the sight of Jongdae smiling at him, laughing and teasing. Even if Jongdae won't fuck him (like he's _supposed_ to), they're still easy friends, and Junmyeon finds himself feeling comfortable and warm around Jongdae. Enough to tell him terrible stories of all the shit Baekhyun caused when they were roommates together years back, how Junmyeon had mistaken Zitao and Jongin as older than him when they first came into the house, that one time he had walked in on his mentors trying out bukkake.

And Jongdae returns the favour, shares bits and pieces of his own life, with a grin that accentuated his cheeks and made his eyes crinkle at the corners. Junmyeon can't help but notice how he has a pleasingly low voice, and only finds out later that Jongdae can hit high notes Junmyeon has never heard of until the moment a bird flew into their window while Jongdae was looking out. The perils of living in a skyscraper.

Junmyeon had laughed at him, safely tucked away behind the breakfast bar of the kitchen, and learned of Jongdae's petty whining too as he stumbled off embarrassed to his room.

There's so many different facets and expressions and habits that sometimes Junmyeon feels overwhelmed when he thinks about Jongdae for too long. Then again, the fact that he finds himself thinking about Jongdae like this in the first place makes Junmyeon realize that maybe, probably, most likely he has a crush.

And Junmyeon might really, really want to blow his crush.

-

Of course Baekhyun is absolutely appalled when Junmyeon tells him about Jongdae over coffee, ‘you have the _worst_ fucking master in _history_.’ Junmyeon really doesn’t know why he still deals with Baekhyun, but it might’ve had something to do with the fact that he never felt like he should bother younger toys like Jongin or Zitao with his self-deprecation, and Baekhyun is the closest in age.

‘Look at this,’ says Baekhyun and holds out his hand, adorned in a very fancy bracelet with little diamonds studded around the circumference. ‘Kyungsoo got me this. Because I’m his precious toy, and it’s a sign of power and wealth that you can afford to take care of another person this well. Look at _you_.’

Junmyeon’s in a sweater and jeans and has one of his nice watches on. ‘I think I look nice,’ he defends mildly.

‘I don’t see any proof that you’re taken. No hickeys, no diamonds, no collar.’ Baekhyun raises his eyebrows in expectation. ‘And now you’re telling me you both sleep in separate beds. How the fuck did you convince this guy to claim you?’

-

‘You know, if you ever do want to touch me,’ mentions Junmyeon, leaning in the doorway of Jongdae’s bedroom, holding a toothbrush in his hand. ‘You can. I’m your fucktoy.’

Jongdae’s sitting on the bed, dressed in a sleep shirt and sweats, holding two ties in front of him. ‘Okay, hyung. By the way, which one do you think looks nicer with the red shirt?’

‘The left one,’ says Junmyeon, and watches Jongdae take said tie and throw it carelessly at his dresser.

‘Great, I’ll wear the other one,’ he says and gives him a cheeky grin.

Junmyeon can’t help but smile back, even as he threatens to throw his toothbrush at Jongdae’s head for his attitude.

-

The touching that Jongdae does after that night is not exactly the kind Junmyeon is looking for. He gets hand holds, he gets hugs, he gets an arm slung around his waist or his shoulders, he gets legs in his lap while they marathon a very bad drama together, he gets shoulder bumps, he gets the occasional tickle along his neck and ribs. He gets a lot of touches, essentially, and it’s all very platonic, and Junmyeon might be dying.

Time to try a different approach.

It’s Sunday night, and Jongdae comes through the door holding two plastic bags of groceries. They’re both slowly getting the hang of not surviving on solely take-out. The meals they kept seeing on the cooking shows were really starting to get to both their competitive streaks.

Junmyeon clears his throat, coming up to grab one of the plastic bags, and says, ‘welcome home, master.’

Jongdae looks up at him surprise, both eyebrows raised. ‘Hi, hyung.’ He shrugs off his coat. ‘By the way, the tomatoes were on sale, so I got some extra. I don’t think they’ll go bad, but we should probably figure something out to eat them.’

‘I think I saw a recipe earlier,’ replies Junmyeon and life resumes as normal.

-

He tries again, but pitches his voice lower and doesn’t turn on all the lights in the kitchen for mood. ‘I made you dinner, master.’

Jongdae walks in, still reading off a tablet he’s holding, ‘thanks, hyung, sorry I couldn’t help, I wasn’t expecting all this pre-election shit already.’ It’s only then that he looks up and furrows his brow. ‘Hyung, turn on the lights, your eyesight will go bad if you don’t.’

-

Third time is the charm. Right? Right. _Right_.

They’re going to some restaurant tonight. The Minister of Defence’s wife’s volunteer project went through despite budgeting issues – all thanks to that impromptu fundraiser Jongdae rustled up, of course – and obviously there was to be a celebratory dinner at this success, please bring a plus one.

Jongdae glides in through the apartment from the office, brushes his hair, dabs on cologne, and knocks on Junmyeon’s door letting him know they can leave whenever he’s ready. Junmyeon doesn’t even have to see Jongdae to know he probably looks unfairly good just dressed in his slightly crumpled work suit.

Of course, Junmyeon has practice at this, has _training_. He knows how to make himself look good. He got a nice haircut, let Baekhyun drag him to get a manicure when all Junmyeon asked was for accessory advice, but eventually they figured out the perfect watch and tie and shoes, all the necessities. He looks perfect.

He opens the door, steps out, walks down the hall to see Jongdae leaning against the back of the couch typing on his phone. The way his head is tilted down highlights his cheekbones, and yes, he does, in fact, look wonderful in his work suit.

Coughing for Jongdae’s attention, Junmyeon slides his hands in his pockets, slight smile on his mouth. Knows how fucking _gorgeous_ he looks like this.

Then Jongdae looks up, and Junmyeon chokes, words cluttered in his mouth before falling out in a stuttered mess, ‘I’m - I'm ready, master.’ Honestly, it’s not his fault he embarrasses himself like this, because he had forgotten that Jongdae doesn’t look at people like a normal human being, no, Jongdae has to have eyes that seem to cut right into Junmyeon and see through him, like he knows all the ways to _get_ to Junmyeon, and shit shit shit he’s going to get _hard_ from Jongdae’s stare.

‘You look good, hyung,’ says Jongdae suddenly with a smile, only does a cursory one-over before he’s back to meeting Junmyeon’s gaze, not even tempted to look at Junmyeon’s _mouth_ for god’s sake.

‘Thank you,’ manages Junmyeon and lets Jongdae lead him out the door.

He texts Baekhyun halfway through the night – a little drunk on the alcohol to shield himself from Jongdae and his own desperation. _Can you die from sexual frustration?_

Baekhyun texts back at lightning speed. _I told you that your master fucking sucks._

-

It’s time to step up his game.

‘It’s customary that you get – ah – accessories for your fucktoy,’ says Junmyeon as they walk through a park with coffees in hand. It was Saturday and Jongdae had mentioned he needed to pick up some files from the offices, so, of course, because Junmyeon is some sort of masochist who can’t separate himself from the one person in the world who doesn’t want to sleep with him, decides to accompany him. Anyway, the grounds around the government buildings are always so nice and well-kept.

‘What kind?’ Jongdae looks over. ‘Though we’re not on any budget, so don’t worry about price, okay, hyung?’

Junmyeon blinks at the reassurance before smiling softly. ‘What if the accessory were the queen’s diamonds, Jongdae-ah?’

Jongdae hums in thought. ‘If you wanted it, I’d give them to you. Hyung, you really should only go for the best.’

The words slide inside of him, makes pressure build in his chest. ‘You’re the best,’ blurts out Junmyeon and almost crushes his coffee cup with nervous energy. ‘And I want the best. I want you.’

There is no other way Junmyeon can be clearer about this. The only appropriate reactions during this moment is some sort of kiss or a _hug_ at least, hell, he’d even take a declaration of how badly Jongdae wants to nail him into the wall, because _please_ , but instead Jongdae just laughs. ‘Hyung, you already have me.’

-

The result of this conversation is Jongdae coming home with a very fancy, jewel-studded watch, and presenting it to Junmyeon just before bed.

‘I’m not sure if this is your taste,’ admits Jongdae. ‘But your other watches are really nice too.’

‘You’ve noticed my other watches?’ asks Junmyeon blankly.

‘Of course,’ he says, gesturing for Junmyeon to extend his wrist. ‘Didn’t you know, hyung, I notice everything.’

He says it in a teasing tone so Junmyeon has no idea if it’s a joke or not, and focuses on the warm slide of Jongdae’s fingers – he has small hands, thinks Junmyeon idly, and just like the rest of Jongdae, they’re perfect, because they fit in Junmyeon’s when he holds them.

When the clasp clicks shut, Junmyeon shakes his wrist, feeling the watch slide into place around his arm. ‘It’s so nice. Thank you, Jongdae-ah.’

Jongdae looks at him with a pleased smile. ‘No master this time?’

Embarrassed at his slip-up, Junmyeon backtracks, ‘I mean yes, ah, thank you, master.’

‘I’m just teasing, hyung.’ His fingers slide over Junmyeon’s wrist, rubbing his thumb over Junmyeon’s pulse point in slow, lingering circles. A line of heat slides through Junmyeon’s body from the touch all the way down his spine, coiling into his belly. It’s a testament to how long his frustration has been building because just with this – with Jongdae’s eyes on him and the press of his hand –  and Junmyeon’s already halfway to begging, please, Jongdae, Jongdae, Jongdae –

‘If you want anything else,’ says Jongdae, ‘you don’t have to ask. You have my credit card still, right? Get yourself whatever.’

‘I want you,’ says Junmyeon, easier to say it the second time around.

To his despair, Jongdae’s fingers retreat, letting Junmyeon’s hand drop to his side, skin tingling. ‘Goodnight, hyung.’

Junmyeon watches Jongdae go into his room, closing the door behind him, and feels his entire body burn up.

-

The fantasies slowly take a left turn.

At first, it was about the way Jongdae's cheeks would flush, the pretty noises he'd make when Junmyeon would drag his mouth achingly slow over his cock. How even if Jongdae's standing, he's still trying to hold onto Junmyeon's shoulders, balance himself as Junmyeon takes him apart with mouth and tongue and the occasional skim of teeth. When he'd come, he'd shiver, breaking Junmyeon's name in half with a breathless moan.

Then Junmyeon begins considering other alternatives to this one, and comes hardest into his fist when he imagines Jongdae looking down at him on his knees, the curl of his mouth so pleased as Junmyeon mouths tentatively at the crown. Junmyeon thinks about all the ways the other toys had said their clients and masters acted - and now the habits are draping over Jongdae, changing him from a begging thing in Junmyeon's mind to someone who'd trace fingers so lightly over Junmyeon's cheek while Junmyeon tried to fit as much cock as he could into his mouth, listening to the proud murmurs of, ‘yes, that's right, hyung, fuck, you look so fucking good.’

In one category is Kyuhyun, Changmin, Yifan, Chanyeol - people that Junmyeon, in hindsight, must've thought would've looked so much better had they been under him. It's the way they're so easy to read; all their expressions just flit over their face the moment Junmyeon makes a move. It does make his job a hundred times easier when he can see exactly what his client wants in the way their pupils bloom, a tongue darting out to wet a bottom lip, the twitch of the fingers. It also makes Junmyeon start to itch to work getting certain reactions out of them and make them come so hard they see white.

In contrast, there is Jongdae - carefully tucked away behind laughter and snark, half-hidden from Junmyeon. Something about him so tightly self-contained that Junmyeon can't exactly put together what it is Jongdae is thinking when he's looking at Junmyeon. For everything else - Junmyeon knows how Jongdae's bottom lip just out in a pout when he's annoyed, the tired droop of his shoulders after a long day running around doing whatever it is politicians do, the crinkle of his eyes when he's truly happy. Then Jongdae looks at him like he sees right through Junmyeon, and Junmyeon can't quite place his own reaction.

Just knows he trusts Jongdae, ready to follow any instruction, and he wants so badly to know which Jongdae in his fantasy is equivalent to the real one.

-

‘I don’t know what to do,’ says Junmyeon, watching Baekhyun take a tentative sip of his overpriced coffee. ‘If he didn’t want me, he’d have told me, right?’

This has been going on for so long that Baekhyun drops the attitude and begins to look concerned. ‘If he was ace, he probably would’ve told you already too. Though I’m sure not many ace people get fucktoys in the first place.’

‘Is it my age?’ Junmyeon’s eyes widen. ‘I _am_ older than him.’

‘By how much?’

‘Only two years.’

‘Might be, but not likely.’ Baekhyun frowns. ‘Well, you basically have to give him step by step instructions on how to be a master. Maybe he doesn’t know fucktoys are for fucking.’

‘Did you just hear yourself,’ says Junmyeon.

‘Look, I’m trying to give you hope here.’ Baekhyun props his chin in his hand in thought. It makes his numerous rings and bracelets glint in the light, proof of Kyungsoo’s affections and wealth. Junmyeon gives up resisting and lets the jealousy twist his stomach.

Then, he sits up. ‘Wait, what if…’

-

Jongdae isn’t a bad master, just a clueless one. He just needs to see an actual master and his toy to get a handle on things. That’s it. Then he’ll finally understand that Junmyeon really, really wants to get on his knees and mouth at his dick through the cotton of his shorts. Amongst other things.

Baekhyun is all prettied up with his makeup and his jewellery, leaning sleepily against Kyungsoo when Kyungsoo opens the door to let them in. They look like a picture-perfect image of a master and their fucktoy.

Jongdae and Kyungsoo are already friends, and Junmyeon only tunes into half the conversation to pick up some names they exchange before he has a sudden craving to get utterly wasted. If he has to watch Baekhyun play all coy to Kyungsoo, knowing that Kyungsoo would probably fuck him on the dining table the moment Junmyeon and Jongdae left, Junmyeon’s pretty sure he’s only going to live if he’s drunk.

‘I need alcohol,’ he tells Baekhyun.

‘No, you don’t,’ replies Baekhyun. ‘Sober sex, remember.’

‘Everything you do to your master, I am going to imagine doing to Jongdae, and then I’m going to die,’ explains Junmyeon flatly.

‘People don’t actually die from sexual frustration.’

‘I’ll set a record as the first. You can tell the press you knew me.’

‘You’re being overdramatic,’ says Baekhyun, which is honestly insulting considering Baekhyun was always the most loud, theatrical toy in the house. Junmyeon vaguely wonders if Zitao is old enough to babysit a sad, frustrated hyung, because Baekhyun is being utterly useless right now.

‘I’m going to lock myself in your bathroom,’ says Junmyeon and does just that.

-

Of course, he comes out five minutes later, figuring he doesn’t want Baekhyun breaking down the door and dragging him out because Baekhyun is the type who _would_. Jongdae is sitting on the loveseat perpendicular to the couch. Kyungsoo is speaking lowly from the couch, Baekhyun’s voice interjecting every so often, and Jongdae’s resulting laugh. It sounds nice. Junmyeon wants to be there.

Just when he comes around the couch to sit next to Baekhyun – there’s more space on a couch than a loveseat – he meets Jongdae’s gaze, and thinks why the hell would he ever sit next to Baekhyun when Jongdae’s lap is free.

And Jongdae doesn’t even seem surprised when Junmyeon settles over his thighs, leaning into him, feeling Jongdae’s arm come around his waist to keep him steady. He takes a breath, and smells Jongdae’s cologne, the scent of his skin underneath, even traces of the shampoo he used this morning.  It’s familiar, realizes Junmyeon later. It’s home.

-

Dinner is really good because Kyungsoo actually knows his way around the kitchen, unlike both him and Jongdae. When he tells Jongdae, Jongdae snorts. ‘Listen, he’s had years of practice, we’ve only had a couple months.’

Baekhyun is good at providing conversation – loud and quick-witted, matching Jongdae and teaming up with him to tease either Kyungsoo or Junmyeon when the opportunity arises. Junmyeon watches in fascination as the meal progresses, so does Baekhyun’s journey from his seat to Kyungsoo, so by the time they’re done, Baekhyun is again looking sated and pretty over Kyungsoo’s arm.

He can’t help but compare them – Kyungsoo is steady and quiet, partial to dry humour. Baekhyun too loud to be kept in one room for long, too flighty and energetic. Maybe this was the whole opposites attract – Baekhyun now anchored down to one place, Kyungsoo now going out more than he’s used to.

Then there is Jongdae – who is loud in a different way. Talks a lot, but in a steady stream, from work and the Ministers and policies that Junmyeon’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to know about to ridiculously ordinary things like groceries and which actor was better looking than another and teasing Junmyeon that they’ll have to expand the bathroom to keep all his various bottles of this and that inside.

Admittedly, Junmyeon’s the same – he likes people, likes talking to them. When Jongdae is at work, Junmyeon spends his time volunteering, and it’s nice. There is Yixing the librarian who works in the children’s section and writes love songs, and Minseok at the food bank who puffs up his cheeks and says since he looks like a dumpling, he might as well share. Sometimes he visits the house, coos over Zitao and Jongin, who tower over him but still smile shy and pleased at the attention. Junmyeon is not lonely by any means, and if he _is_ in a mood, there is, of course, Baekhyun.

Him and Jongdae are not flighty either. Jongdae is a steady presence, and Junmyeon likes keeping to his own devised schedule as well. They both have easy temperaments – at least, Junmyeon assumes so. He can’t imagine Jongdae getting upset with a loud voice and a red face, but there’s always an intimidating edge to him when he comes home silent with frustration from his work.

If opposites attract, then maybe, maybe, because of their similarities, Jongdae doesn’t like him that way. Not at all. A fucktoy can be a friend too, and maybe that is all what Junmyeon is at the end of the day.

-

Kyungsoo and Baekhyun wave to them from the door when they finally take their leave.

They grab a taxi – Jongdae doesn’t know how to drive, never bothered with getting a license and neither has Junmyeon. One day, maybe, they could try that together too.

The ride is silent, until Jongdae is threading his fingers between Junmyeon’s, his voice quiet and concerned, ‘something wrong, hyung?’

Junmyeon blinks and shakes his head, tipping his head onto Jongdae’s shoulder and savours the closeness he does get. ‘They looked good together.’

‘Yeah, they did. Though, your friend, Baekhyun – he’s something else.’

‘I warned you,’ says Junmyeon, feeling Jongdae’s laughter vibrate through him. He can’t help but smile, looking down at where their fingers are intertwined and resting on Junmyeon’s thigh. Maybe this is good enough.

-

On a Tuesday evening, they are both in their pajamas and standing in the kitchen. Junmyeon is trying very hard not to scald the meat in the frying pan, Jongdae is focused on chopping up a green pepper, and there are the muted songs of some ballad artist drifting around them.

On a Tuesday evening, Junmyeon looks beside him, sees the focused look on Jongdae’s face as he works, and realizes with no real surprise that he loves Jongdae beyond all saving.

On a Tuesday evening, Junmyeon scalds the meat because he’s too busy looking at Jongdae’s lashes, and when Jongdae finally manages to turn off the smoke alarm, laughing about another inevitable screw-up, Junmyeon laughs too and feels like crying.

-

For Junmyeon’s birthday, Jongdae drags him out to dinner with his friends. It’s warm – he finally meets Minseok’s boyfriend, Luhan, and Yixing is looking less sleepy as Zitao sits next to him and talks in hushed Mandarin. Jongin is beside Zitao and eating with dedication. An hour into dinner, Baekhyun finally graces them all with his presence, handing over a box with a conspiratorial wink. From Baekhyun, this could mean a number of things, but the box isn’t ticking so Junmyeon figures it’s safe for at least tonight.

It goes late into the night, which is fine. Junmyeon likes talking to all of these people, and Jongdae seems easy with them too. Just for kicks, Jongdae entertains them with his halting Mandarin that he’s picked up while working with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, so Luhan teaches Jongdae something that has Zitao’s face red and Yixing muffling laughter.

When they finally decide to disperse, Junmyeon waves them all off before turning to Jongdae, ‘I didn’t know you knew Mandarin.’

Jongdae snorts. ‘As well as I know Japanese, which is barely. All you need to know how to say in an office is ‘good morning’, ‘good night’, and ‘shut the fuck up’.’

‘Charming,’ says Junmyeon dryly as Jongdae hails down a taxi and piles in all of Junmyeon’s presents before they get inside as well.

Back in the apartment, Jongdae gives up and leaves the presents scattered on the couch in the living room, ‘we can take care of this tomorrow.’ He looks over at Junmyeon who places his own handful of things on the couch too. ‘Happy birthday.’

‘Thank you.’ Junmyeon straightens and rubs his damp palms on his jeans. ‘Can I – can I request another present from you?’

Jongdae seems game as he nods readily, watching him.

There is no training to deal with Junmyeon’s heart thundering in his ears as he swallows. ‘I want to kiss you.’

‘Oh.’ Jongdae blinks, then drops his gaze to Junmyeon’s mouth. ‘Where?’

‘Whe – ’ starts Junmyeon in surprise. ‘Lips, where else were you thinking?’

Shrugging, Jongdae moves forward, closes the distance between, before his breath is warm, tickling Junmyeon’s lips as their foreheads press together. Like this, he realizes Jongdae is just a hint taller than him, just enough. ‘God’s sake, Jongdae, please don’t make me wait for this too,’ murmurs Junmyeon.

Jongdae has the gall to smirk. ‘I thought I had told you to take whatever you wanted.’

So Junmyeon does. He leans forward and licks at the curving seam of Jongdae’s lips, can’t help but make a happy noise when Jongdae opens up so easy and warm. His fingers slide into Jongdae’s thick, dark hair, holding him in place, as Junmyeon tries to suck Jongdae’s tongue into his mouth. He _feels_ Jongdae’s groan, and the light touch of his hands coming to rest on Junmyeon’s waist.

There’s a moment where Junmyeon thinks of pulling away to see what Jongdae looks like – surprised, pleased, unimpressed? – which is gone in the next instant cause Junmyeon requested one kiss and the hell he’s letting it end this soon.

So he swings his arms around Jongdae’s neck, dragging him as close as possible while sucking on his bottom lip till it’s swollen. He wants to kiss him so well that every other kiss Jongdae’s ever had is just a pale comparison, means nothing compared to Junmyeon. Already, on his end, Junmyeon feels overwhelmed, doesn’t think he’ll ever forget that Jongdae tastes like dessert and mint candy and _home_.

When he decides to switch and nip at Jongdae’s top lip, Jongdae hums in approval – and the sound is accompanied by the heaviest rush of arousal down the conduit of his spine, makes Junmyeon light-headed and weak-kneed. He stays standing, somehow, and instead makes the most pathetic whining noise of his life when Jongdae decides to return the favour and lick into his mouth.

He thinks he can handle it – keep his composure as Jongdae sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and pulls, makes it swell. His composure lasts for three seconds before Junmyeon has to push himself away, breathing hard, feeling the smallest trembles wrack through him in waves.

When he blinks through his own lust, he’s subjected to the sight of Jongdae, hair a mess, mouth so red and slick, eyes dark and on Junmyeon. ‘Fuck,’ he blurts, torn between locking himself in his room for the next five years or taking Jongdae by the collar and pinning him to the wall.

‘Well. That was a long time coming,’ says Jongdae eventually, voice deeper than usual. For a second, he leans forward, just a hint, and Junmyeon doesn’t even register what he’s doing when his own eyes go half-lidded, mouth opening up for him, anticipatory. Apparently that’s the wrong reaction because Jongdae is pulling away, stepping back, fingers slipping from Junmyeon’s waist. ‘Let’s sleep, and talk tomorrow.’

Oh, for fuck’s sake. ‘Jongdae, _master_ ,’ whines Junmyeon, kicking away his pride and his subtlety and whatever else that one kiss just shredded to pieces.

‘Tomorrow, hyung,’ assures Jongdae, swiping a thumb over his own bottom lip in contemplation.

Then he’s walking off, and Junmyeon resists drinking all the wine in the apartment before collapsing onto his own bed.

-

Tomorrow begins with Junmyeon staring at his bedroom ceiling for long minutes, pretending he doesn’t exist, so he doesn’t have to see Jongdae’s face in daylight and drown under the urge kiss him again to see how red his mouth looks in the morning. Eventually, he hears Jongdae washing dishes and realizes he’s already eaten and is probably going to go to work. Junmyeon should at least wish him a nice day.

He shuffles out of his bedroom, intensely wary, and peeks into the living room to see his pile of presents and Jongdae sliding his laptop that was sitting on the coffee table into his messenger bag, zipping it closed.

‘Good morning,’ says Junmyeon, and feels himself smile when Jongdae jerks in surprise, looking up at him with wide eyes, before relaxing in recognition.

‘Morning. Sorry, I’m in a rush, but I left some food in the fridge,’ says Jongdae, coming up to him. He pauses for a moment, then cups Junmyeon’s neck and presses his mouth against his soft and chaste. It lasts for two seconds, maybe three, and Junmyeon’s pretty sure he’s now going through cardiac arrest.

‘Have a nice… day…’ trails off Junmyeon when Jongdae’s already moving away to the front door, slipping on his shoes and grabbing his coat.

‘You too,’ he smiles, before he’s gone.

-

‘So, he’s not ace,’ offers Baekhyun over the phone after Junmyeon resuscitates himself with breakfast and calls him.

‘This is backwards,’ says Junmyeon, balancing his cell between ear and shoulder as he systematically lugs the presents from living room to bedroom. ‘It’s me. I have to do everything. I have to tell him to touch me, I have to kiss him first, I have to ask for gifts. Has any other toy had to deal with this?’

‘Maybe he doesn’t want to, y’know, infringe on your innocence.’

‘Ah, yes, my much eluding fucktoy innocence. Tell me – when did Kyungsoo fuck you?’

‘I’d say two or three hours into the first night he got me.’

‘It’s been _months_ ,’ snarls Junmyeon.

‘You really picked a winner,’ says Baekhyun dryly.

The tone pricks at his skin. ‘Don’t say it like that, he’s wonderful.’

‘You just need to be explicit. _Very_ explicit.’ Baekhyun pauses. ‘Naked on the couch explicit.’

Junmyeon makes a face. ‘That’s just tasteless, Baekhyun, I honestly hope you don’t do that. At least wear jewellery.’

-

He comes home after Jongdae does, having lost time in a coffee date with Yixing as they visited a new café that had opened up on the street. It had been nice; Yixing is soft-spoken, lets Junmyeon ramble away as he likes as they pick out desserts and munch on them. Honestly, it’s all nice. From apartment to friends to Jongdae, Junmyeon finds himself living with calm contentment.

While a fucktoy is supposed to be doted on and pampered by their master in exchange for their availability and services, Junmyeon doesn’t mind the life he lives right now. Likes wandering around free to do as he pleases, dropping Jongdae’s money on whatever he likes. He supposes it also helps that he loves Jongdae helplessly, doesn’t even think about moving out and looking for a new master even when Baekhyun has brought it up a couple times over the past weeks.

When Junmyeon steps through the front door, swinging a bag of some pastries he had brought from the café, he sees Jongdae sitting on the couch, highlighter sticking out between his teeth as he reads a giant stack of papers.

Then Jongdae looks up, popping out the highlighter and smiling at him. ‘Hey.’

Junmyeon finds himself staring for a moment too long, feeling his skin burn up from the flood of feelings in his chest.

‘Can you… come here?’ asks Jongdae, dragging Junmyeon out of his thoughts.

As master wills, so Junmyeon does. He hangs up his coat, tosses his shoes in some corner, and pads over to Jongdae, bag still in hand.

Jongdae reaches up, so Junmyeon bends down, and he feels his eyes flutter shut when Jongdae cups his neck and pull him so they kiss, once, a little longer than this morning, but still dry and warm.

‘I thought,’ breathes out Junmyeon when he pulls away. ‘Thought you didn’t want me.’

There’s something satisfying when Jongdae looks completely bewildered. ‘Of course I want you. That’s why I asked you to live with me.’

Ah. Shoving down the sigh in his throat, Junmyeon says, ‘I meant – physically.’

‘You’re gorgeous,’ replies Jongdae, and his voice is so steady, certain, like what he just said is the most obvious thing in the world. In return, Junmyeon feels his cheeks go pink, wondering in the back of his mind where all his training goes whenever he has Jongdae in front of him.

‘I want you,’ says Junmyeon for the third damn time.

‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘I mean.’ Junmyeon drops the plastic bag, moves the papers to the coffee table, and slides into Jongdae’s lap, straddling him. ‘I want you to fuck me.’

Jongdae exhales, flopping back against the couch, his fingers resting lightly over Junmyeon’s hips. ‘Hyung.’

‘ _Master_ ,’ emphasizes Junmyeon, ‘I want to suck your cock. I want to ride you. I want you to fuck me in every room of this apartment.’ There. That should be explicit enough.

All Jongdae is doing, of course, as usual, is looking at him, and Junmyeon finds every ounce of his bravado from two seconds earlier dissipating, resisting the urge to fidget under the attention. Then the hands on his waist slide up his side, tickling his ribs from over his shirt, and Junmyeon _does_ squirm, biting the inside of his cheek to not laugh.

‘Hyung,’ says Jongdae finally, half-smile on his mouth, as he continues to tease him like this, and Junmyeon gives up. Tilts forward. Collapses against Jongdae, face buried in Jongdae’s neck as he laughs breathlessly.

‘This is not what I had in mind,’ he manages when Jongdae’s fingers retreat to his waist again. ‘Are you selectively deaf, master?’

‘No,’ he murmurs, pressing his mouth to Junmyeon’s cheek in a light kiss. ‘I was just waiting.’

Once the words register, Junmyeon is pushing himself back up, looking at Jongdae incredulously. ‘I’m a _fucktoy_. You could’ve fucked me on the first night we met.’

There’s a shrug in reply. ‘I guess. Might’ve been boring though.’

He cannot believe this. ‘It wouldn’t be boring because, just to clarify, I _wanted_ to fuck you. Did you not notice? I woke you up, on the couch the first night; I was basically on top of you.’

One of Jongdae’s hands curl around his wrist, and his thumb is doing that _thing_ with the slow, pressing circles against his pulse point, the one that makes Junmyeon try not to shiver. ‘I told you – I wanted to get to know you first.’ He brings Junmyeon’s wrist up now, eyes half-lidded and watching him with an unrelenting gaze as he places a warm, lingering kiss to where his thumb was. Arousal shoots through Junmyeon so hard he downright whimpers. ‘And then I decided I wanted to get you like this.’

‘What,’ stutters Junmyeon, now trying to think past the sight and feel of Jongdae’s canines scratching along his pulse point, his eyes still on Junmyeon. ‘Like – like what?’

Jongdae pulls away and smiles at him, brilliant and adoring. ‘You’re shaking, hyung.’

He is. Junmyeon swallows hard and tries to still, before realization dawns on him. ‘Was this – just – did you _tease me_ for _months_?’

‘A little.’

‘You – I – I hope you got blue balls,’ he snaps, half upset, half relieved.

‘I honestly thought you’d ask much earlier,’ says Jongdae, as if that makes anything better. ‘You said you were a fucktoy.’

‘Am. I _am_.’ Junmyeon fists both his hands on Jongdae’s shoulders and grinds down. ‘Does this not _get_ to you?’

Suddenly, the world is tilting, too fast for Junmyeon to even manage a sound of surprise. He feels the steadiness of Jongdae’s arm around his waist and then he’s on his back against the couch, his hands on either side of his face in surprise as Jongdae looms over him.

The arm around his waist retreats; Jongdae lets down Junmyeon so he’s flat on the cushions. ‘Trust me,’ says Jongdae slowly, voice so very low, as he hovers over Junmyeon, holding himself up with one hand. The other one is tracing a slow-burning trail along the back of Junmyeon’s thigh, lifting his leg to hook around the other’s hip.

‘Every part of you,’ continues Jongdae, words steady and certain, the heat of his body so close, all-consuming. ‘Every part, hyung, _gets_ to me.’ And Junmyeon is left lying there staring up at Jongdae’s dark eyes, mouth gone dry, all thoughts of his training drowned under a rush of _want_.

‘Fuck me,’ he chokes out, tightening his leg around Jongdae’s hip. ‘Please.’

‘Not yet,’ says Jongdae, smiling apologetically. ‘I’m sort of busy trying to convince people not to cut the Defence Ministry’s funding.’

Junmyeon blinks, remembering there’s a reality outside of this. ‘Oh. Right. Were you reading the new budget proposals?’

‘Yeah,’ sighs Jongdae, pulling back entirely to sit on the couch with a frown. ‘They’re _so_ long.’ He looks around, ‘have you seen my highlighter?’

‘I think it’s the thing digging into my back.’

There’s a beat, before Jongdae’s laughing, shoulders shaking, and Junmyeon rolls onto his side to grab the offending object. Just for retribution, he throws it at Jongdae, pleased at Jongdae’s little yelp, and then stands up.

Retrieving his dropped plastic bag, Junmyeon remembers. ‘Ah, I got some snacks from the café; did you want to eat them with tea?’

Jongdae’s lap is already occupied with the stack of papers, and he nods, looking up at Junmyeon in appreciation. ‘That’d be nice.’

So life resumes as normal.

-

He’s not saying he sort of feels like a house-husband, but there’s something very domestic in having a kiss before one of them leaves the apartment, and then another when they’re both finally home. Now that Junmyeon has the insider knowledge that Jongdae is a teasing _bastard_ , the chaste kisses go from pleasant to frustrating in under a week.

Then comes the week where Jongdae doesn’t even bother coming home; choosing to pass out in the offices day in and day out. Junmyeon knows it has to do with the fact that the Prime Minister’s successive candidate has suddenly come up with vastly different stances on issues – including spending on domestic versus international affairs. Things the Defence Ministry is very, _very_ keen on getting their way. Had it been any other department under fire, and Jongdae would’ve been sprawled on the couch by dinnertime, laughing at how badly the other attachés and assistants were doing with their bosses. It’s good to know that Jongdae did not stop being an asshole since the first night they’ve met.

So, Junmyeon waits and makes peace with the fact that there is constantly a tremor of sexual frustration under his skin. Unfortunately, he can’t really do anything about that by himself except for the usual strategy he's been using for the past few months – pressing his mouth against the shower tiles as he tugs frantically at his cock, hoping that the sounds are muffled enough under the rush of water so Jongdae can’t hear him.

While the apartment is still empty, he wonders what it’ll be like with Jongdae, eventually, when he comes back. Thinks on it probably for too long. Sometimes, they’re simply idle thoughts – surprising him as he moves through the apartment. How Jongdae would lift him onto the kitchen counter and press his arrogant smiles against Junmyeon’s throat. Or along the couch, draped behind Junmyeon, breath hot against his nape. The way his lashes must fan out, cast delicate shadows along his cheekbones, when he sleeps beside Junmyeon.

It’s ridiculous and then suddenly turns suffocating when he realizes what he’s doing. Months since they first met, Junmyeon doesn’t want to just be fucked, he wants to be loved too, preferably at the same time, with the same intensity that Jongdae has for everything else.

-

It must’ve gone like this: Jongdae finally comes home, holding three different dry-cleaned suits and his usual messenger bag. There are bruises pressed under his eyes, hints of stubble littering his skin. It’s early in the morning, dawn light silhouetting the curtains drawn across the living room windows.

Junmyeon doesn’t wake up until hours later, stepping out to see the clumsy toss of Jongdae’s shoes on the mat before the front door, his bag sitting on the coffee table, his keys lying forgotten on the breakfast bar.

Curiously, he pads back down the hall, turning the knob to Jongdae’s bedroom as quietly as he can, hearing a telltale click, and pushing. Jongdae’s sprawled still on top of his covers, his socks, tie, and suit jacket crumpled on the floor beside the bed. Junmyeon knows he shouldn’t go in – he hasn’t ever been invited – so he closes the door and goes to the kitchen to start the coffeemaker.

-

It’s late in the evening when Jongdae stumbles out from his room, hair a mess, dressed in some oversized t-shirt and sweats. Junmyeon is flat on the couch, holding a book in front of his face, but the words slip away when he hears Jongdae’s footsteps coming down the hall.

He drops the book and sits up, heart in his throat, as he watches Jongdae round the corner to the kitchen, his back to Junmyeon.

‘You’re home,’ calls out Junmyeon on impulse, breaking the still air.

Jongdae jumps in surprise, turning around on his heel. ‘Oh, fuck, you scared me. Hey, Junmyeon-hyung.’

He’s not even thinking when he stands up, crossing the distance between them, and pressing his mouth against Jongdae’s, one hand threaded through his sleep-mussed hair. Jongdae hums, pulling back after a moment, ‘hyung, I’m gross right now.’

Fine. Junmyeon presses his forehead against Jongdae’s, unmoving, taking a deep breath, smelling the apartment and Jongdae and how it’s so _right_ now, how it’s a complete home again, and feels himself warm up. ‘Master.’

There’s a huff of laughter, and Jongdae is kissing his cheek, kissing under his eye, next to his eyebrow, on his temple – a shower of affection. ‘Missed you, hyung.’

‘I hate your job,’ murmurs Junmyeon, letting himself be mollified by Jongdae nuzzling his cheek, his arms wrapped around Junmyeon’s waist now. ‘Do you know how quiet this apartment gets without you?’

‘Nope. Probably because I’m not here,’ replies Jongdae, grinning at him, even if he looks exhausted and fuzzy around the edges. ‘And because I know you’re always going to be here.’

Heart in his throat, Junmyeon kisses him again, resisting the urge to whine when Jongdae pulls away once more. ‘Let the other damn assistants write up emergency policies and - and convince candidates and whatever next time,’ says Junmyeon, voice scratchy. ‘Did you sleep on a couch the entire time? Did you even _eat_?’

‘Lots and lots of takeout at three in the morning,’ says Jongdae, dropping his arms from Junmyeon and moving to the fridge. ‘And they’re leather couches; the government isn’t cheap with interior décor.’

‘You look terrible.’

‘I know.’ Jongdae digs through the fridge. ‘Did you make all this?’

‘Yes.’ Junmyeon moves forward, hands cupping Jongdae’s hips from over his sweats. ‘Go sit, and I’ll heat it up for you.’

‘I’m tired, not dead. I can serve myself, don’t worry.’

‘Master,’ he says sharply. ‘Just. Let me.’

Jongdae pulls away from the fridge, closing the door, not looking at Junmyeon. ‘Okay.’ He moves away, and Junmyeon gets to work.

-

Junmyeon talks to Jongdae quietly about what he’s been up to for the last week and a half, nothing serious – descriptions of outings with Minseok and Luhan, and how Yixing and Zitao treated him to some special Chengdu cuisine in a half-hidden hole in the wall restaurant. There’s also the meet-ups with Baekhyun – who is unchanging and constant in that he keeps Junmyeon on his toes, and it’s a nice pick-up of the week to spend a few hours with him.

He tries to keep the conversation light and one-sided, doesn’t want Jongdae to reply, only eat his fill. Eventually, his voice falters, falls silent, and he simply watches, tries to memorize the sight of sharp cheekbones, long lashes, curving mouth. His features so familiar and foreign at the same time.

Finally, Jongdae puts his chopsticks down and starts stacking his bowls, but Junmyeon takes over. ‘Go sit on the couch.’

‘Isn’t it me who’s the master?’ asks Jongdae but obeys.

Junmyeon dumps the dishes into the sink; he’ll wash these later. Going out into the living room, he finds Jongdae looking up at him curiously.

Without preamble, Junmyeon slides in Jongdae’s lap, straddles him, fingers sliding over his shoulders. He feels Jongdae’s hands settle on his waist and resists kissing him right then and there. Over and over until he runs out of breath. This came first: ‘do you know _why_ people claim fucktoys?’

Jongdae watches him, eyebrows raised. ‘I’m going to guess it’s because they want to fuck.’

‘Well, yes.’ Junmyeon feels the solidity of Jongdae under his hands, lets it anchor him. ‘Keeping a toy dressed and pampered is also a sign of power and wealth, to show off to everyone else. But, more than that – when a master needs a distraction, or a break, from something that might be troubling them, it’s the toy’s job to make them feel better using their skills. To keep the master company, to take _care_ of them.’

‘Junmyeon-hyung,’ murmurs Jongdae. ‘I don’t need it.’

There’s a beat and Junmyeon can’t stand it, feels the words bubble up his throat, half-terrified, ‘so you don’t need me?’

Immediately, Jongdae’s arms go around his waist, firm and inescapable. ‘Hyung, sleep with me.’

Junmyeon freezes, looks down just to make sure he’s heard right. ‘What?’

‘Just sleep. Beside me.’ Jongdae gives him a smile, drooping down at the edges with fatigue. ‘I’m still tired and now I’m full. I think I’m going to pass out again.’

-

Jongdae’s lashes do, in fact, cast delicate, miniature shadows over his cheekbones as he sleeps. Junmyeon curls up close to him, not touching, not yet. He hopes they wake up tangled together – feet sliding against feet, an arm thrown around a waist, breath warm across a patch of skin, the tickle of hair against face or neck or shoulder – but for now, Jongdae said ‘beside me’, and what master wills, Junmyeon does.

-

It’s warm here. Warm and soft. He’s on his side, head on an obscenely comfortable pillow. Both of his hands are curled up near his chest – fingers twitching to feel himself holding something. Taking a deep breath, Junmyeon shivers into wakefulness, the memories of the last few hours filtering through his head so fast that he snaps his eyes open, utterly surprised.

In front of him, Jongdae’s on his side too, his one small hand curled between both of Junmyeon’s, eyes blinking open at the sound of Junmyeon’s stuttered breathing. ‘G’morning, Junmyeon-hyung,’ he says softly, already awake. Right. Jongdae was some accursed morning person.

‘Morning,’ he replies, squeezing Jongdae’s fingers between his own just to make sure it’s as real and solid as it feels. Jongdae laughs quietly at the gesture, pulling away his hand only to wrap it around Junmyeon’s waist, dragging him close. ‘Jongdae-ah.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you yesterday,’ he says. ‘Sometimes I need to binge-work to make up for all the slacking we do through the rest of the year. Don’t worry. I’m getting paid for this OT.’

‘That’s not what scares me,’ says Junmyeon, pressing his thumbs against the now faded bruises of fatigue under Jongdae’s eyes. He slides them across slowly, and cups the other’s cheekbones, feeling them under his palms.

Jongdae’s expression goes smooth with contemplation. ‘Hyung, can I kiss you?’

Junmyeon stares at him in disbelief. ‘The answer is always going to be yes, so I don’t know why you’re asking.’

‘Just making sure,’ says Jongdae before he’s surging forward. Junmyeon is already open for him – warm and willing, realizes it’s the first time Jongdae’s kissed him like this, with something more than platonic intent behind it, and it’s different, it’s so fucking _different_. Jongdae’s not reciprocating now; he’s tasting, _taking_.

Junmyeon gives – a whine sliding up his throat, making an embarrassing noise when Jongdae is suddenly rolling him onto his back, his small hands carding through Junmyeon’s hair. Whatever fatigue Jongdae had last night seems to be lost when he licks into Junmyeon’s mouth, nibbling on his bottom lip.

The warmth of Jongdae’s body settles, straddling his stomach, and Junmyeon can’t help but let his hands slide down Jongdae’s waist and pull at the hem of his shirt, feeling desperate. He’s melting into the bed when Jongdae sucks on his tongue, bones all liquid heat, just from Jongdae’s mouth.

Then the kiss breaks and Junmyeon hears himself moan – but Jongdae stays close, stays on top of him. His teeth are nipping along Junmyeon’s jawline, pressing butterfly kisses over his throat. It’s ticklish and too much, already. Junmyeon has wanted for so long, _so long_ , and to have it, all of a sudden –

‘Jongdae, Jongdae,’ he says, hurried and breathless, hands slipping under Jongdae’s shirt to feel the skin underneath. Solid and warm. ‘Please, Jongdae.’

Then Jongdae’s mouth skimming up from his collarbone to his cheek, his hands sliding along Junmyeon’s sides, bunching his shirt up up _up_ as he breathes, ‘it’s master, hyung’ into Junmyeon’s ear.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ blurts Junmyeon, the word shooting right to his cock. ‘Master.’

‘That’s right,’ hums Jongdae, pleased, as he leans back to pull at Junmyeon’s sleep shirt, throwing it to the side once it’s finally off. ‘Let master take care of you, right, Junmyeon-hyung?’

Junmyeon whines, trying to find words but it’s hard when Jongdae’s mouth is traveling wet and hot from the divot of his collarbones to his nipple, teasing him with little flicks of his tongue. Instead, he arches, every inch of his skin hyperaware of Jongdae – his Jongdae.

His hands paw at the flatness of Jongdae’s stomach in need instead, wanting to reciprocate, but he can’t manage to think of what he would do when Jongdae’s tracing a wet line from one nipple to the other, making sure Junmyeon’s going to be sensitized in symmetry.

‘God, fuck,’ he manages in short gasps, back arching when Jongdae’s fingers slide to his nipples and play with them as his mouth leaves another trail of kisses down to his belly. Jongdae’s hands are small and they move like they’ve always known Junmyeon, how to play Junmyeon with his own pleasure. They flick over his chest again and then once more and again and fuck, Junmyeon can’t handle this, bucking his hips upwards for anything. ‘Please, master.’

‘Yes, hyung?’ hums Jongdae, looking up from where he’s hovering over the waistband of Junmyeon’s sweats, mouth sinfully red and so fucking _close_ to his cock.

‘I – You – ‘ stutters Junmyeon, trying to string the words in his head. Something about reciprocating, about wanting to see Jongdae strip in return.

‘Move your hands, won’t you?’ interrupts Jongdae, and Junmyeon pulls his fingers away as fast as he can manage, arms flailing awkwardly in the air. A second later, Jongdae’s capturing his wrists in his hands and pinning them down on either side of Junmyeon’s head, face hovering so close just above. ‘Keep them here.’

‘Okay,’ says Junmyeon faintly, caught up in the sight of Jongdae’s eyes half-lidded with sheer arousal, how pretty his mouth looks slick and swollen. He clutches at the pillows under his hands, trying to keep himself still, but it’s so very hard when Jongdae’s mouth is back on his chest.

He doesn’t bite, doesn’t bruise. Instead, Junmyeon’s subjected to the careful tracks of Jongdae’s kisses, his teeth nipping at the skin until it’s a little pink before moving on. He’s methodical – leaving patterns of warmth that begin from Junmyeon’s jawline all the way to his nipples, like he’s making sure no part of Junmyeon is left unkissed, untouched.

The thought winds him with affection and he finds himself gasping out embarrassing noises from the back of his throat. If Jongdae hears him, he doesn’t care as he continues down, his fingers catching along both waistbands of sweats and undershorts.

‘Want – want to – ’ tries Junmyeon, though it’s difficult when his mind is awash in a white sea of adoration and arousal. Just when he thinks he has it – ‘want to touch you, mas – ’ – it’s lost in a groan when he feels Jongdae mouthing at the line of his cock through the fabric.

His fingers will claw through these pillows before anything even starts. Jongdae isn’t even sucking his cock – just wetting the front of his sweats with his spit, completely shameless as he tries to trace the length with his teeth. The friction has Junmyeon’s hips twisting, torn between wanting more and to get away before he completely embarrasses himself in front of Jongdae.

Then the warmth leaves, long enough for Jongdae to ask, ‘want me to suck your cock, hyung?’

Junmyeon makes a strangled noise – head flooded with the image of pretty, curved lips stretched around his cock, slicked up in precome and spit, until it’s overwhelmed with the realization that it will be _Jongdae_ taking him down his throat. ‘Master, master, master.’

‘Answer me properly,’ says Jongdae, voice deep, any sound of teasing erased altogether.

‘Yes, _yes_ ,’ he says, restraint gone. He looks down and sees Jongdae watching him with his eyes, so dark and consuming, and Junmyeon feels like he’s going to drown from sight and sensation and it would be perfectly okay if he never came up for air. ‘Master, please, suck my cock, please.’

‘There we go,’ replies Jongdae, a proud smile spreading across his face. It hits him in the gut with so much heat that Junmyeon knocks his head back against the pillow, letting his body tremble in both overstimulation and anticipation.

The cool air of the bedroom hits him fast when Jongdae pulls off the rest of his clothes with efficiency, leaving him pale and naked and desperate over the sheets.

‘I knew you’d be gorgeous like this too,’ says Jongdae quietly, fingers skating over Junmyeon’s stomach, and Junmyeon can’t help but tense the muscles – it’s so much, too much, to be under Jongdae’s scrutiny like this. ‘Junmyeon-hyung.’

It’s not an order or a question, but Junmyeon lets his thighs fall apart anyway – shows the jut of his cock, how hard he is, all from Jongdae over him. ‘Want you, _god_ – I want you, master.’ He wants to tell Jongdae how much he felt himself burn up whenever Jongdae looked at him, touched him, teased him until he’s this writhing, desperate thing on his bed. Except that involves words and eloquence that Junmyeon simply doesn’t have right now, especially with Jongdae planting a sweet kiss to the crown of his cock.

‘You sound wonderful too,’ he says, mouth skating down the hard line of Junmyeon’s cock. ‘Don’t stop for me.’

Junmyeon doesn’t have the heart to tell him that his request isn’t a challenge at all, instead moans loud and full-throated when Jongdae takes his dick halfway into his mouth in one smooth motion. Jongdae’s tongue is just as much of a tickling, teasing thing as he is – flicking under his glans over and over so as to make Junmyeon’s hips twitch every time.

His mouth is warm and wet and whatever fantasies Junmyeon had in the shower for weeks upon weeks did not prepare him in the least for the sight of Jongdae’s bobbing head, his eyes closed and lips so red over Junmyeon’s cock. He’s slow – painfully so – making Junmyeon feel each drag of Jongdae’s tongue along the underside, and Junmyeon can already feel his orgasm pool into his gut because of it all.

Admittedly, Junmyeon might’ve been halfway to coming the moment Jongdae fucked his tongue into his mouth, but at this point it would be embarrassing if he just lost it in only a few minutes from a blowjob. He breathes hard as he keeps watching, seeing Jongdae’s hand splay over his abdomen to keep him still, the other one leaving a ticklish trail from inner thigh to his sac.

Then Jongdae is pulling off, kitten-licking his way from tip to base – so fucking _hot_ – and mouthing wet around Junmyeon’s balls, and Junmyeon’s voice breaks, ‘ _fuck_ , fuck – ’

He can’t remember the last time anything was as overwhelming as this, with Jongdae sucking his cock with deliberation, unashamed of the spit streaked along his chin, letting Junmyeon’s precome paint him when he slides his lips over the head. It leaves his mouth glossy; it makes Jongdae look young and slutty as he peers up at Junmyeon, mouth curling with that half-hidden arrogance that has Junmyeon’s pulse pounding.

‘Do you want to come?’ asks Jongdae, voice just a little more wrecked than before. His fingers curl around Junmyeon’s dick and pump him slowly, thumb tracing over the crown, and the touch has a rush of heat spread out through each of Junmyeon’s veins so he feels like he’s going to burn up.

‘Yes,’ he hisses, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of Jongdae settled between his thighs, looking at him pupils blown wide, cheeks pink and mouth red. ‘Please, master.’

Jongdae nods, ‘you can,’, before both his hands are pressing against Junmyeon’s hips, pinning him against the bed. Before Junmyeon can breathe, Jongdae has his cock down his throat, warm and wet and tight, sucking hard, cheekbones apparent.

Everything goes hazy-white – creeping at the edges of his mind, leaving Junmyeon thinking in circles about how _good_ Jongdae looks like this, how glorious this all feels, how long Junmyeon has waited and how it was worth every second because Jongdae is looking up at him from under his lashes, lips around cock, tongue pressed up against the underside, and the friction is too much, too much, too much –

Junmyeon arches, manages to get out, ‘fuck, I’m coming, master, I’m co – ’, before his orgasm hits him and he can only lie there moaning, unable to look away as Jongdae’s lips slide upwards to circle around the crown and drink every rope of spunk Junmyeon has to give.

It takes a moment to realize he’s trembling as Jongdae tries to suck his softening cock clean, uncaring about the stuttered whines escaping Junmyeon’s throat from oversensitivity. ‘Master,’ he says, voice hoarse. ‘Thank you.’ It’s the only piece of training that Junmyeon can manage to scrape out of the post-orgasmic wreckage of his mind.

Jongdae only grins at him, crawling back up Junmyeon’s body to hover over him, lips skimming over his cheek, light and ticklish. ‘So – do I live up to your other conquests?’

‘My other…’ he trails off, before he remembers there was a point in his life previous to Jongdae’s mouth on his dick. ‘Oh. Them.’

He doesn’t expect Jongdae muffling his breathless laughter against Junmyeon’s hair. ‘ _Them_. So cruel, hyung.’

‘No, it’s flattering,’ he replies, hands coming up to grasp Jongdae’s waist, nudge him down so Jongdae ends up half-sprawled over top of him, a warm weight with his chin tucked between Junmyeon’s neck and shoulder. ‘I haven’t…’ He hesitates. ‘I don’t know how I just lost myself, I’m sorry.’

Jongdae only presses closer, hand around Junmyeon’s waist tightening. ‘That’s what’s supposed to happen.’

‘Still. I – I forgot my training.’ Something like disappointment rises up his esophagus and Junmyeon hates it, hates that he’s screwed up _again_. ‘Can I – can I just...’ He shifts to his side, facing Jongdae, his fingers skimming down the still-clothed chest to the tent in Jongdae’s sweats. He cups the heat of Jongdae’s cock over the sweats, liking the sight of his lashes fluttering at the touch. ‘I want to be a good toy for you.’

Jongdae replies by grabbing Junmyeon’s wrist and pulling his hand away. ‘I don’t need it.’

‘Yes, you do,’ presses Junmyeon, feeling a wave of panic wash over him. ‘Please.’

‘Junmyeon-hyung, I’m serious,’ says Jongdae with a smile, affection written on his face. ‘I’d rather just touch you. You don’t – don’t have to do anything back.’

‘But.’ That wasn’t how this was supposed to go. This was supposed to be Junmyeon’s moment, to take care of Jongdae, his Jongdae. Instead, his chance is slipping away right before his eyes. ‘Master, please, I want to, want to be good for you, no one else – ’ He stutters into silence, thinks he’s gone too far. Laid claim on Jongdae without permission.

‘No one else?’ prompts Jongdae, curious.

‘The others, they didn’t do this to me,’ says Junmyeon, thoughts in a disarray, trying to be coherent. ‘It’s – sex – is different with you.’ He can’t say _all_ of it is different, can’t say _everything_. ‘I want to be – be an eager mess for you like before, while actually _doing_ something.’

‘But I think I like it when you’re a useless eager mess,’ says Jongdae, teasing, his hand sliding from Junmyeon’s wrist to tangle their fingers together. ‘Especially because of me.’

‘Master,’ whines Junmyeon. ‘Don’t make me wait months again for this.’

‘I didn’t make you wait,’ says Jongdae. ‘That was all on you. You could’ve asked any time you wanted.’

‘Half of it was your fault; you could’ve given me a _clue_.’ Junmyeon pauses. ‘Or – did you not want to fuck me until right now?’

He waits, sees Jongdae’s gaze go half-lidded in thought. ‘It’s not like that…’

‘Like what, then?’

For a second, Jongdae seems irritated, but it’s gone when he looks up at Junmyeon. ‘Of course I wanted to fuck you before now.’

‘Oh.’ Junmyeon can feel a blush crawling up his neck as he thinks of all the times in the shower, switching himself out with Jongdae, wondering if Jongdae did the same, thought of him and fogged up the shower tiles with moans of his name. ‘How?’

Jongdae purses his mouth in thought. ‘Since I’ve seen you on your back, I guess now I’d like to see you on your stomach.’

‘That is the least attractive way of talking about sex,’ says Junmyeon, wondering if he should laugh.

‘Oh, is _that_ what you want?’ Jongdae’s mouth curling up, glint in his eye. He rolls off the bed before Junmyeon can protest, his hand flailing out uselessly in the air as Jongdae walks around the room to the dresser.

‘Come back,’ he grouses. ‘Why are you so energetic in the morning? Why are you a damn morning person?’

‘Stop whining, hyung.’

Suddenly, Junmyeon is five years old again: ‘make me.’

Jongdae laughs, coming back to the bed holding a tube of lube in his hand. ‘I just needed to get this before I explain to you _exactly_ how I thought about fucking you.’

‘Oh, finally,’ sighs Junmyeon, splayed out on his back pliant and willing as he watches Jongdae settle beside him. This he could do – fuck himself on cock so perfectly that his clients were always gasping his name in a minute.

There’s a light touch to his thigh, ‘turn over for me.’ He’s on his stomach in an instant, still miffed that he hasn’t seen Jongdae naked yet, nor touched him. But this was familiar territory now, and Junmyeon could impress, finally be a _good_ toy.

There’s a careful rearranging until Junmyeon’s blinking languidly with his cheek pressed into the pillow, arms spread on either side, hips propped up on a couple cushions so his ass is in full view for Jongdae who is kneeling behind him between his spread knees.

‘You good?’ asks Jongdae, hand warm on Junmyeon’s back.

‘Yes, master,’ replies Junmyeon, pleased that he’s already off to a good start.

Then Jongdae’s fingers are skating along the inside of his thighs, light and ticklish. Junmyeon resists squirming even if Jongdae hasn’t asked him to be still. ‘I thought about a lot of things, hyung.’

Junmyeon lets out a breath when Jongdae hands press against his skin and spread his ass open without much preamble. ‘First, I thought about you fucking me.’ One of his fingers slides from hole to sac, a warm pressure. ‘I think you’d like that – opening me up yourself.’

Closing his eyes, he imagines it – Jongdae rocking his hips onto Junmyeon’s hand, how warm and tight his ass would be; what he’d look like with a glimmer of sweat over his skin, his mouth panting and open. Junmyeon moans. ‘You do,’ says Jongdae, a little smug. ‘Stretch me out for your cock, slide inside of me, whispering about how you’re _servicing_ me.’

The words make Junmyeon’s stomach tighten with lust, a tremble riding down his spine. At his ass, the pad of Jongdae’s finger is tracing circles around his hole, not pressing, not dipping inside. A tease. ‘And then I thought – what would gorgeous Junmyeonnie-hyung look on _my_ fingers, getting ready for me.’

‘Master,’ gasps Junmyeon, wanting it more than anything. He doesn’t get a reply. The words fade out and instead there’s a warmth along the small of his back, hands keeping his ass spread and hole exposed, and then – and then – Jongdae’s _tongue_ where his finger was, teasing his rim. ‘Oh, fu- _uck_.’

Jongdae can’t talk like this, but he doesn’t need to, not when his mouth is a wet warmth working at his perineum with sloppy kisses and licks. Junmyeon whines, fingers twisting into the sheets underneath him, almost tearing through them when Jongdae’s at his sac, taking a ball into his mouth and sucking hard.

He can’t help it now – pressing his moans against the pillow, eyes shut, as Jongdae holds his ass with his hands, not letting him go, not letting him escape when Jongdae drags his tongue back to his hole and traces it slow enough that there are goosebumps appearing all over his skin.

There was training, remembers Junmyeon hazily – training on how to give and service with your mouth like this. There was training on how to moan and arch when on the receiving end of these sensations – to make sure master knows how much you appreciate them. There was training, but it all completely flees from his mind when suddenly it's his Jongdae opening his hole up with his tongue, pressing inside.

It’s not like a finger – Jongdae’s tongue is wet and warm and makes Junmyeon gasp with his mouth open so drool threatens to escape. Jongdae’s hands are moving now too, a thumb hooking inside of Junmyeon’s ass and a tongue licking around it, trying to get _deeper_ inside Junmyeon.

‘Master, master, master,’ rambles Junmyeon, the title a litany in the air as his cock fills up again, gets hard against his belly, all from Jongdae’s mouth working him open like this. ‘Master, please, master – ’

‘Yeah,’ says Jongdae, voice low and wrecked, as he pulls away. Junmyeon is trying to figure out how to breathe again, only vaguely registering the sound of the lube being opened up. It feels like only a few heartbeats later that Jongdae’s fucking his tongue inside of Junmyeon again, and Junmyeon arches, abandoning any efforts to stay still as he tries to ride back onto Jongdae’s face.

The moment the tongue is gone, Jongdae’s slick fingers are there, one sliding in with ease. Junmyeon shivers hard – rolling his hips to draw Jongdae deeper, feeling too keyed up and desperate to even consider the thought of teasing Jongdae with this.

‘God, _fuck_ , master,’ pants Junmyeon, already needing something else, something more. Jongdae kisses the swell of his ass as he curls two fingers inside of Junmyeon now, dragging against his skin achingly slow. It’s a bit more of a stretch now, has a slow-heat burn travel up Junmyeon’s nervous system, frying anything that doesn’t have to do with his ass and sex and _Jongdae_.

‘Still good?’ asks Jongdae, like he can’t figure out what Junmyeon’s hard, leaking cock means.

Junmyeon groans out an assent, ‘yes, master, _yes_ – ’

‘You’re prettier than anything I could ever imagine,’ says Jongdae softly, still using two fingers to stretch out Junmyeon’s ass. His pace is still slow, first for adjustment, but it’s become a cruel tease three fucks ago. ‘All spread out for me, wanting more.’

‘ _Yes_ ,’ hisses Junmyeon, and gets rewarded with another finger. ‘Master, _please_.’ He thinks he might be begging for Jongdae not to be a teasing bastard about this, but that’s too much to hope for. The pace is just as slow as it was before, drawing out each sensation until Junmyeon feels himself shaking and he can’t find it in himself to figure out how to stop.

‘This is what I thought about,’ says Jongdae, the heat of his body suddenly moving. His fingers stay – curled and deep inside of Junmyeon, exactly where they should be. Suddenly, a hand lands beside Junmyeon’s head and he can feel the softness of Jongdae’s shirt as it tickles his spine, signaling that Jongdae looms over him, holding himself up. His mouth is there too – skimming the shell of Junmyeon’s ear, voice so low: ‘thought about fucking you, Junmyeon-hyung.’

He punctuates the phrase with a rough twist of his fingers and Junmyeon’s crying out, trying to muffle his embarrassing noises into the pillow, doesn’t understand how he can fall apart so damn easily with Jongdae. ‘Thought about eating you out,’ continues Jongdae, hand suddenly picking up the pace to fuck into Junmyeon deep and good like he was begging for earlier.

‘Yes,’ agrees Junmyeon mindlessly, wouldn’t mind a repeat performance of Jongdae’s tongue flicking his rim, make shivers wrack through his frame. At the sound of his voice, Jongdae finger fucks him just a little harder, getting another groan.

‘Thought about you open on my fingers,’ murmurs Jongdae. ‘What you’d look like trying to fuck yourself open for my cock.’ And Junmyeon is – his hips twisting to meet each rock of Jongdae’s fingers, pushing back to get them harder, deeper. Hit him where he wants it.

He’s more than ready now, wants the fingers away from him when he knows Jongdae’s cock is right there, able to slide inside of him. Junmyeon whines wordlessly, finding the rhythm of Jongdae’s hand and keeps to it. Jongdae’s mouth skims his ear again, breath hot, ‘I thought about _fucking_ you, Junmyeon-hyung.’ The fingers curl inside of him, drags the tips along Junmyeon’s sweet spot, making his voice break.

Jongdae keeps pressing there, keeps letting the arousal build and build in Junmyeon’s belly, as he murmurs into Junmyeon’s ear, voice low, rough, ‘I thought about fucking you to _pieces_ ,’ and Junmyeon nods, wants it too, wants it so badly, ‘thought about fucking you so _good_ ,’, yes, please, master, please, ‘so fucking _well_ that you’d never even _think_ ,’, fuck, oh fuck, please, ‘of taking anyone’s cock in you but _mine_ ,’, master, master, _master_ –

His lust peaks; Junmyeon sobs when Jongdae finally slides out his fingers, leaving his ass empty and desirous for more. For a long second, there is nothing but the sounds of Junmyeon choking on his breaths, trying to settle himself down.

Then Jongdae is there next to him, petting his side, kissing his cheek. ‘Hyung, Junmyeon-hyung, you okay?’

Junmyeon swallows to wet his dry mouth, nodding, before he’s stuttering out, ‘can I, master, please, want to ride you.’

‘Don’t have to.’ There are more kisses pressed to his cheek, his jawline, making the trembles running through Junmyeon’s frame ease enough so he can push himself up till he’s on his knees. In reply, Jongdae lies down flat on his back, head pillowed, still dressed in his shirt and sweats. When Junmyeon meets his gaze, it’s warm and concerned and he feels another wave of affection clutch at his chest as he moves to straddle Jongdae’s stomach.

With fingers playing along the hem of the shirt, Junmyeon clears his throat, ‘may I, master?’ Jongdae nods, lifting himself up high enough for Junmyeon to finally get it off and toss it god-knows-where. For a moment, Junmyeon forgets what he’s trying to do – pauses to drink in the sight of Jongdae from his sharp collarbone to the flatness of his stomach, the breadth of his shoulders, the muscle corded along his arms. This time Junmyeon shivers in sheer _want_.

Finally, he moves down, hands pulling at the waistband, and Jongdae helps him kick it all off, till he’s naked and splayed on the bed, all for Junmyeon. ‘Master,’ he murmurs absentmindedly, fingers skirting along Jongdae’s ribs to his hipbones, tracing the defined delta of muscle preceding the arch of his cock. Hard, slick at the head with precome. Junmyeon wants to taste it so bad.

‘Don’t have to,’ repeats Jongdae, tone gentle, reminding Junmyeon.

He shakes his head, smiles. ‘I _want_ to. Let me – let me take care of you.’

With that, Jongdae hands him the lube and hisses when Junmyeon slicks him up. He leans forward, pressing his palms onto Jongdae’s chest for balance as he lowers himself down onto his cock. It still stretches, just a little, but the burn rushes through in a pleasant blaze, has him shivering in how _good_ it feels to be filled up with something so thick and hard and belonging to Jongdae, his Jongdae.

Swallowing, Junmyeon uses muscle memory first – rocks his hips in a slow grind and watches as Jongdae’s lashes flutter, his voice coming out in a soft moan. He keeps at it, getting used to the weight of cock inside of him, when Jongdae’s hands grasp his hips, his eyes dark with lust, already making the quietest noises for Junmyeon. He wonders if he should’ve known Jongdae would be easy and vocal like this, and takes it all in, keeps it in memory to look back on over and over again – the way Jongdae touched, looked, felt when he fucked Junmyeon for the first time.

Eventually, even Junmyeon's feeling tortured, so he raises his hips, rocking back with a sound of skin-on-skin. It has Jongdae’s cock driving deeper into him and Junmyeon moans in tandem with Jongdae as he does it again. He wants to keep his eyes open, wants to watch Jongdae, but it’s hard with how good it feels to be on top of him, to be in control for once, even when Jongdae seems to be able to take him apart with a look, a touch, a word.

‘Junmyeon-hyung,’ groans Jongdae when Junmyeon picks up the pace, fucking himself open and desperate now. His hands press against Jongdae’s skin underneath for balance as he drops back down on Jongdae’s abdomen, reveling in how filthy it sounds, how it’s making the cock inside of him slam into him harder and faster.

‘So good,’ gasps Junmyeon. He’s ridden Changmin, Yifan, Chanyeol, has training imbedded in his bones – but he wants to make this the best damn experience for Jongdae, fuck him so well that it’s _Jongdae_ who will never dream of slamming his cock into anyone else that isn’t Junmyeon.

Pushing off Jongdae’s chest, Junmyeon leans back, hands digging into Jongdae’s thighs, and feels the crown of the cock inside him scrape at the edge of his prostate. ‘There, fuck me there, master, please.’

‘Yes,’ hisses Jongdae, raising his knees, digging his heels into the mattress as he ramps his hips up. Hits him _there_. Junmyeon feels his breath get punched out his lungs, body tightening up with pleasure, and Jongdae is swearing, ‘ _fuck_ , you’re so fucking _good_ , hyung.’

Junmyeon wants to hear more of that – tries to ride Jongdae with the same intensity that Jongdae screws into him, his voice breaking, ‘don’t stop, master, please don’t fucking stop – ’ Doesn’t just mean the glorious way Jongdae’s cock is fucking him until he’s gasping, wants the heated gaze of Jongdae too, wants the words and the way his fingers are so tight around his hips as they fuck.

‘Won’t, won’t,’ he says, just as breathless as Junmyeon. There is now a rhythm to this: Junmyeon lifting himself and riding back down, meeting Jongdae as he thrusts up, and the split-second grind of Junmyeon’s ass against his abdomen, unable to move when Jongdae’s cock is pressing into his sweet spot so hard and good that Junmyeon can barely think.

His palms are slick with sweat, nails scratching pink lines into Jongdae’s thighs as he tries to keep his grip. Doesn’t want to risk letting go for a better handhold if it means losing how well Jongdae’s thrusting into him, filling him up perfectly. His legs are burning too – Junmyeon had forgotten the sheer exertion of riding cock, but any discomfort drowns under a rush of endorphins.

Junmyeon only remembers his own arousal when suddenly Jongdae’s fisting his cock, smearing the long, leaking lines of precome all the way down and back up again, making him feel like every nerve in his body just fired. Immediately, Junmyeon hears himself sob, eyes squeezed shut as he desperately tries to keep up, all the while fucking into Jongdae’s hand.

‘I’m close, I’m so close,’ he manages, forcing himself to open his eyes, to look at Jongdae. The sight has him moaning even louder – it’s the way Jongdae is watching him like he’ll consume Junmyeon whole. His hair is damp with sweat, falling into his eyes, skin covered in a sheen of sweat, muscles tight with effort to fuck Junmyeon into an incoherent mess. ‘Mas – master, let me come – ’

Jongdae tightens his grip just a little over Junmyeon’s cock, and it’s enough, has him shaking even more as his orgasm rushes down to the base of his spine. ‘Going to come on me, hyung?’ asks Jongdae, his voice so rough with lust that Junmyeon feels like the words scrape down his skin.

He nods frantically, unable to stop slamming back down on Jongdae’s cock even when he feels this overwhelmed, arms trembling as he holds on. Hears himself moaning, ‘master, please,’ when Jongdae continues, ‘going to come on my cock?’

It’s good enough. Jongdae’s grip on Junmyeon’s hip forces him down and _stay_ there, where the crown of Jongdae’s dick is pressing up ruthless and insistent against his prostate. He can’t help but keep moving, hips grinding down hard, riding out the waves of pleasure as Jongdae strokes him off. One second, Junmyeon is half-gasping incoherent pleas; the next, he’s coming _hard_ , orgasm a surprise as it hurtles through him.

‘Junmyeon-hyung,’ stutters Jongdae as Junmyeon keeps grinding while his cock spits out line after line of come, covering Jongdae’s hand, his stomach, marking him up with Junmyeon – looking like _his_ Jongdae. Then the aftershocks die off and he’s lost – muscles ragdoll-relaxed as he threatens to tip over.

Still hard, Jongdae rolls them over, holds open Junmyeon’s thighs, and fucks into Junmyeon hard and fast, chasing his own end. Junmyeon feels himself hiccup with moans with each thrust, letting the noises get drowned out by the way Jongdae’s singing out, ‘fuck, _fuck_ , you’re so gorgeous – _hyung_ , hyung, Jun- _myeon_ – ’

He comes – pumping Junmyeon full and warm with his load, riding it out with gentler rocks of his hips until he’s soft and sensitized. Junmyeon sighs as Jongdae pulls out, collapsing beside him, close enough that Junmyeon could count his lashes, see the way his mouth is bitten and bruised with Junmyeon’s kisses.

‘Should clean up,’ mumbles Jongdae, eyes half-lidded, looking exhausted again, so Junmyeon ignores him and pulls at the edge of the blanket they’ve kicked to the end of the bed. By the time Junmyeon has them tucked, his body curled close to Jongdae, feeling warm and sated – Jongdae is already breathing deep.

Lack of stamina, scolds Junmyeon silently, feeling himself smile as he watches Jongdae sleep. Eventually he slips off too.

-

Waking up is much easier this time. With the way the sunlight is spilling from behind Jongdae’s curtains, it might be close to early afternoon. He stretches his arms in front of himself – feeling aching and sore in the best ways.

Turning to the side, he takes in the sight of Jongdae lying on his stomach, still seemingly content to nap. ‘Don’t waste your day,’ says Junmyeon with a poke to the cheek, making Jongdae’s face scrunch up, whining from the back of his throat. ‘Up.’

‘I’m master,’ slurs Jongdae, sticking his tongue out, eyes still closed, so he doesn’t see Junmyeon lean in. The squeak of surprise is worth sucking Jongdae’s tongue into his mouth, kissing him a little bit more filthy and wet than he probably should. Jongdae is pliant and warm, opens up with no hesitation to let Junmyeon do as he pleases.

‘Your mouth is terrible,’ says Junmyeon when he finally pulls back, lips tingling. Jongdae is looking at him, gaze half-lidded in sleepiness but no less piercing than the first night they met. ‘Want to kiss it forever.’

‘I’m not objecting,’ replies Jongdae, the corners of his grin curled up all smug, expression pleased.

Junmyeon rolls his eyes, smiling back at him anyway. ‘Thank you. For this morning.’

The memories seem to finally filter into Jongdae’s head now because Junmyeon can’t help but watch as Jongdae’s eyes flick towards him, gaze dragging down him deliberately slow, lingering on his mouth. So obviously desirous. What Junmyeon has craved for months.

‘Now,’ he says, before Jongdae can say anything. ‘We eat something. So get out of bed.’

-

It hits Junmyeon when he finds himself standing in front of the kitchen counter, remembering how he had imagined himself sitting on it, Jongdae between his open knees, pressing kisses all along the column of his neck. His stomach lurches with the realization that he can’t stay here, having Jongdae fuck him without loving him in the way Junmyeon wants, needs.

Turning around, he sees Jongdae rifling through the fridge, cheekbones thrown in relief by the light inside. Even with mussed hair, smelling vaguely of sex and sweat and himself, a shirt thrown shapelessly over his torso, his legs sticking out awkwardly from a pair of boxer shorts – Junmyeon finds him obscenely attractive. Wants to pin Jongdae against the fridge door and kiss him again and again and again. Press ‘I love you’s into his skin with each touch.

‘Jongdae,’ starts Junmyeon, but doesn’t even have the words, only his feelings running out of him, a self-created ocean to drown in.

‘Yeah, hyung?’ says Jongdae, pulling out the rest of the leftovers in their plastic containers and piling them up. ‘Also, I think we should finish these before it goes bad.’

‘You’re just too lazy to cook,’ says Junmyeon instead, and feels struck when Jongdae turns to look at him, grinning so wide and lovely, saying, ‘yeah, that too.’

They eat on the couch, sitting just as close as usual, as an episode of something-or-another plays on the screen. Junmyeon isn’t taking anything in – except for the taste of the food, the warmth of Jongdae beside him, the sea inside of him.

‘Jongdae,’ he tries again, keeping his bowl in his lap as he looks over at Jongdae. ‘Master.’

‘What’s up?’ says Jongdae, looking at him as usual, nothing different even after they’ve fucked. Junmyeon swallows down his panic.

‘I know – I know I’m your fucktoy,’ he starts, heart in his throat. ‘And toys – it’s supposed to be that I belong to you. _I’m_ yours.’ The realization dawns on him, makes him flinch. ‘God. That’s probably it. It’s because I really _am_ the worst toy. I screwed up again.’ He laughs hollowly. ‘Even now, even as your toy, I want – I just want _you_ to be mine too.’

He’s breathing fast, nervous energy crawling under his skin, can’t decipher anything from the way Jongdae watches him, expressionless. Half a dozen promises to leave the apartment crawl up his spine, wondering if he’s made Jongdae upset – because this is a complete and utter fuck-up and this time Junmyeon has no idea how he’ll ever go back to fix it. Find that he doesn’t _want_ to fix it. Loving Jongdae isn’t something to fix.

‘Do you know why I didn’t give you any clue or hint that I wanted you?’ asks Jongdae suddenly.

Junmyeon stares back and shakes his head, mute.

Jongdae puts his dishes onto the coffee table and runs a hand through his hair, expression seemingly frustrated, even as he sits facing Junmyeon, making sure Junmyeon doesn’t escape. ‘I thought – thought that you would let me touch you because you think it’s your job to obey. I didn’t want to be an obligation for you.’

‘You’re not,’ blurts Junmyeon. ‘You – you never were.’

He gets a soft smile in return, feels it ease the pressure in his chest. ‘It’s why I waited for you to come to me. I figured what you chose to ask for is what _you_ wanted, not a part of your job as a toy.’

‘You know fucktoys don’t _have_ to go with masters who claim them?’ says Junmyeon. ‘It’s as much our choice as it is yours. It’s why we fuck different clients first to find compatibility.’

‘Well. I know that _now_.’

Junmyeon makes an incredulous noise in the back of his throat. ‘I wanted to touch you since the first night, and yes, partly because I was curious of compatibility, but – also, you’re really attractive, you know that?’

Jongdae stares at him for a beat before muffling his laughter behind his hand.

‘And then – then I moved in and you were even _more_ attractive,’ rambles Junmyeon, feeling it all flow out of him. ‘I just – you can’t expect me to live with you and see you whine like a child and laugh at everything and be a complete asshole and expect me to _not_ love you.’

‘Oh.’ Jongdae tips his head to the side, previous laughter softening up to just a half-smile.

‘I’m not done,’ says Junmyeon sharply. ‘You should know that I never once considered moving out, even when I could. And then – then we fucked, and you still look at me the same. Which means sex didn’t change anything. And if it didn’t – if all we are is friends – I'm going to move out.’

‘Junmyeon-hyung,’ says Jongdae, a teasing lilt to his voice, as he watches him. ‘Maybe I look at you the same because I love you before the sex and after too.’

That. That wasn’t a hypothesis Junmyeon had considered before. He stares. ‘Oh.’

‘You can’t expect _me_ to live with you,’ says Jongdae, grinning at him, ‘and watch you laugh and get all worried and go around trying your best in everything – even if that means there are like five facial cleansers in our bathroom, honestly, hyung, you don't need them when you’re gorgeous as you are. Anyway, after all that, how could I not love you?’

‘I only have two, the others are facial masks,’ sniffs Junmyeon. ‘I can’t believe this – why didn’t you tell me? You’re the worst dongsaeng, and I know Baekhyun.’

‘Why didn’t _you_ tell me?’

Junmyeon fidgets. ‘Because I thought I’d scare you away.’ He sighs. ‘Fine. _Fine_. Your hyung wasn’t any better.’

He watches as Jongdae sprawls onto his back against the couch cushions, laughing from deep within his chest. With an annoyed noise, Junmyeon moves his own dishes from his lap to the table and then crawls over top Jongdae, staring down at him, looking unimpressed.

‘Stop teasing me,’ he says, dipping down to emphasize his demand with a quick kiss.

Jongdae chases his mouth, pouting when Junmyeon moves out of range. ‘Just for that – no way.’

He couldn’t have that. He kisses Jongdae once more, sweet and chaste, before pulling away to look at him, expression serious. ‘Just to be clear – I’m not moving out now that you’ve declared your affections.’

‘Of course you’re not moving out,’ says Jongdae, his eyes glinting and mischievous and so full of adoration that Junmyeon feels foolish for not noticing before. ‘Aren’t you _my_ fucktoy?’

‘As long as you’re _my_ master,’ he replies.

‘Just yours,’ promises Jongdae, voice oh-so-sincere that Junmyeon feels his eyes burn. ‘Everyone is wrong, you know,’ he continues, running a hand through Junmyeon’s hair, soft and gentle. ‘I got so lucky for getting the absolute best fucktoy there ever was.’

He’s not going to cry. At least not yet. Instead, Junmyeon just kisses him, hard and desperate, feeling Jongdae kiss him back, everything about him so steady and warm and just for Junmyeon, and Junmyeon can’t help but think he’s the lucky one between them both.

-

**Author's Note:**

> if you read this, thank you for ignoring every internal inconsistency in this extremely self-indulgent fic. I hope you enjoyed~


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